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33  WIST  MAIN  STRUT 

WIUTIR.N.Y.  M5M 

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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CiHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


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D 
D 
D 
D 
D 


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Cover  title  missing/ 

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Lkj    Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

I      I    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


D 
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□    Pages  detached/ 
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The 
posi 
of  tl 
film 


Oris 

begi 

the 

sion 

oth( 

first 

sion 

oril 


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Showthrough/ 
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I      I    Quality  of  print  varies/ 


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shal 
TINi 
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Mar 
diff( 
enti 
beg 
righ 
reqi 
met 


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This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  rat'o  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  filmA  au  taux  de  rArluction  indiquti  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


26X 


30X 


>/ 


12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

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g6n6rosit6  de: 

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de  la  nettet6  de  l'exemplaire  film6,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


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beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprim^e  sont  filmds  en  commen^&iit 
par  le  premier  plat  f  t  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
derniftre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  le^  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  film6s  en  commenpant  par  la 
premidre  pag9  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  —»•(  meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaTtra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbcle  — ►  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


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different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
film6s  A  des  taux  de  reduction  diffirents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  uri  seul  clichi,  11  est  filmi  A  partir 
de  Tangle  sup6rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  A  droite. 
At  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'Images  ndcessaire.  Les  diagi^ammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mithode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

f/ 


In  All  Shades  ^  ^  ^  ^  ^  ^  ^ 

^^^^^^^^^^A  Novel 
By  Grant  Allen  if  ^  ^  ^  ^  ^  ^ 


Chicago  and  New  York  ♦  «  ♦ 

Rand,  McNally  8c  Company 


y 


2  9  4  4  4  8 


IN    ALL   SHADES 


CHAPTER  I. 

About  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  by  a  flickering  fire  of 
half-dead  embers,  young  men  of  twenty-five  are  very  apt  to 
grow  confidential.  Now,  it  was  one  o'clock  gone,  by  the 
marble  timepiece  on  Edward  Hawthorn's  big  mantelshelf  in 
King's  Bench  Walk,  Temple  ;  and  Edward  Hawthorn  and 
Harry  Noel  were  aach  of  them  just  twenty-five ;  so  it  is  no 
matter  for  wonder  at  all  that  the  conversation  should  just 
then  have  begun  to  take  a  very  confidential  turn  indeed, 
especially  when  one  remembers  that  they  had  both  nearly 
finished  their  warm  glass  of  whisky  toddy,  and  that  it  was 
one  of  those  chilly  April  evenings  when  you  naturally 
cower  close  over  the  fire  to  keep  your  poor  blood  from 
curdling  bodily  altogether  within  you. 

'  It's  certainly  very  odd,  Noel,  that  my  father  should 
always  seem  so  very  anxious  to  keep  me  from  going 
back  to  Trinidad,  even  for  a  mere  short  visit.' 

Harry  Noel  shook  out  the  ashes  from  his  pipe  as  he 
answered  quietly :  •  Fathers  are  altogether  the  most  un- 
accoontable,  incomprehensible,  mysterious,  unmanageable 
creatures  in  God's  universe.  Women  and  horses  are  mere 
child's-play  compared  to  them.  For  my  own  part,  I've 
given  up  attempting  to  fathom  them  altogether.' 

Edward  smiled  half  deprecatingly.  '  Ah,  but  you  know, 
Noel,'  he  went  on  in  a  far  more  serious  tone  than  his 
friend's,  '  my  father  isn't  at  all  like  that ;  he's  never  refused 
me  money  or  anything  else  I've  wanted ;  he's  been  the 
most  liberal  and  the  kiudest  of  men  to  me ;  but  for  somt 


fl  nr  ALL  SHADES 

abstruse  and  inconceivable  reason — I  esn't  imagine  why- 
he's  ahvays  opposed  my  going  back  home  even  to  visit 
him.' 

*  If  Sir  Walter'd  only  act  upon  the  same  principle,  my 
dear  boy,  I  can  tell  you  confidentially  I'd  be  simply  too  de- 
lighted. But,  confound  it  all,  he  always  acts  upon  the 
exact  contrary.  He's  in  favour  of  my  coming  down  to  the 
Hall,  in  the  very  dampest,  dreariest,  and  dullest  part  of  all 
Lincolnshire,  at  the  precise  moment  of  time  when  I  want 
myself  to  be  off  to  Scotland,  deer-stalking  or  grousa- 
shooting  ;  but  he  invariably  considers  all  my  application 
for  extra  coin  as  at  least  inopportune — as  the  papers  say — 
if  not  as  absolutely  extravagant,  or  even  criminal.  A 
governor  who  shells  out  freely  while  remaining  permanently 
invisible  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  appears  to  me  to 
combine  all  the  practical  advantages  of  the  governor, 
viewed  as  an  mstitution,  with  none  of  its  painful  and  ob- 
jectionable drawbacks.  Ofortunatus  nimium  tua  si  bona 
7ioris,  my  dear  Teddy.* 

'  Ah,  that's  all  very  well  for  you,  Noel ;  you've  got 
your  father  and  your  family  here  in  England  with  you,  and 
you  make  light  of  the  privilege  because  you  anjcy  it.  But 
it's  a  very  dilferent  thing  altogether  when  all  your  people  are 
separated  fram  you  by  half  a  hemisphere,  and  you've  never 
even  so  much  as  seen  your  own  mother  since  you  were  a 
little  chap  no  bigger  than  that  chair  there.  You'll  admit 
at  least  that  a  fellow  would  naturally  like  now  and  again  to 
see  his  mother.' 

*  His  mother,'  Noel  answered,  dropping  his  voice  a 
little  with  a  sort  of  instinctive  reverential  inflection.  '  Ah, 
that,  now, '3  a  very  di£ferent  matter.  Fathers  of  course 
are  our  natural  enemies,  we  all  admit;  but  the  man 
that  goes  back  upon  his  own  mother  isn't  worth  salt  to  his 
porritlge,' 

'  Well,  you  see,  my  dear  fellow,  I've  never  seen  either 
my  father  or  my  mother  since  I  was  quite  a  small  boy  of 
eight  years  old  or  thereabouts.  I  was  sent  home  to  Joyce's 
to  school  then,  as  you  know ;  and  after  that,  I  went  to 
Bugby,  and  next  to  Cambridge ;  and  I've  almost  entirely 
forgotten  by  this  time  even  what  my  father  and  mother 


W  ALL  SHADES 


look  like.  When  thij  sent  me  home  those  two  photo- 
graphs there,  a  few  months  back,  I  assure  you  there  wasn't 
a  feature  in  eitharface  I  could  really  and  truly  recognise  or 
remember.' 

'  Precious  handsome  old  gentleman  your  father,  any- 
how,' Noel  observed,  looking  up  carelessly  at  the  large 
framed  photograph  above  the  fire-place.  '  Seems  the  right 
sort  too  ;  has  what  I  should  call  a  benevolent  shelling-out 
cast  of  countenance,  which  ought  to  be  strictly  encouraged 
in  the  breed  of  fathers.  Fine  air  of  sterling  coininess  also, 
I  remark,  about  his  grey  hair  and  his  full  waistcoat  and  his 
turn-down  shirt-collar.  A  man  of  more  than  fifty  who 
wears  a  turn-down  collar,  I've  long  observed,  is  invariably 
coiny.  Real  old  solid  mahogany  father,  I  should  be  in- 
clined to  ".ay ;  good  all  alike  throughoiit ;  no  veneering. 
Calculated  to  cut  up  very  respectably.' 

*  Oh,  Noel,  please ;  don't  talk  that  way  \* 

*  My  dear  follow,  it's  the  course  of  nature.  We  fall  as 
the  leaves  fall,  and  new  generations  replace  us  and  take 
our  money.  Good  for  the  legacy  duty.  Now,  is  your 
governor  sugar  or  coffee  ? ' 

*  Sugar,  I  believe — in  fact,  I'm  pretty  sure  of  it.  He 
often  wrii  is  that  the  canes  are  progressing,  and  talks  about 
rattoons  and  centrifugals  and  other  things  I  don't  know 
the  very  names  of.  But  I  believe  he  has  a  very  good 
estate  of  his  own  somewhere  or  other  at  the  north  end  of 
che  island.' 

*  "Why,  of  course,  then,  that's  the  explanation  of  it — as 
safe  as  houses,  you  may  depend  upon  it.  The  old  gentle- 
man's as  rich  as  Croesus,  I'll  bet  you  any  money.  He 
makes  you  a  modest  allowance  over  here,  which  you,  who 
are  an  unassuming,  hard-working,  Chitty-on-Contract  soit 
of  fellow,  consider  very  handsome,  but  which  is  really  not 
one  quarter  of  what  he  ought  to  be  allowing  you  out  of  his 
probably  princely  income.  You  take  my  word  for  it,  Teddy, 
that's  the  meaning  of  it.  The  old  gentleman — he  has  a 
very  knowing  look  about  his  weather-eye  in  the  photograph 
too — he  thinks  if  you  were  to  go  out  there,  and  see  the 
estate,  and  observe  the  wealth  of  the  Indies,  and  discover 
the  way  he  makes  the  dollars  fiy,  you'd  ask  him  imme* 


4  IN  ALL   SHADES 

diately  to  double  your  allowance;  and  being  a  person  of 
unusual  penetration — as  I  can  see,  "with  half  a  glance,  from 
his  picture — he  decides  to  keep  you  at  the  other  end  of  the 
universe,  so  tliat  you  may  never  discover  what  a  perfect 
Rothschild  he  is,  and  go  in  for  putting  the  screw  on.' 

Edward  Hawthorn  smiled  quietly.  '  It  won't  do,  my 
dear  fellow,'  he  said,  glancing  up  quickly  at  the  handsome 
open  face  in  the  big  photograph.  *  My  father  isn't  at  all 
that  sort  of  person,  I  feel  certain,  from  his  letters.  He's 
doing  all  he  can  to  advance  me  in  life  ;  and  though  he 
hasn't  seen  me  for  so  long,  I'm  the  one  interest  he  really 
lives  upon.' 

'  Oh,  you  excellent  young  man,  Teddy,  how  delieiously 
green  and  fresh  you've  managed  to  keep  yourself !  Do  you 
I'^ally  mean  to  tell  me  you  still  believe  all  that  ridiculous 
paternal  humbug  ?  Why,  my  governor  always  says  pre- 
cisely the  same  things  to  me  in  precisely  the  same  language. 
If  you  were  to  believe  Sir  Walter,  his  one  aim  and  object 
in  life  is  to  make  me  happy.  It's  all  for  my  own  sake  that 
he  stints  me  in  money  ;  it's  all  for  my  own  sake  that  he 
spends  every  penny  he  ought  to  be  generously  showering 
npon  me,  in  building  new  cottages  and  mending  fences  and 
improving  the  position  of  the  tenants  generally.  As  if  the 
tenants  war  ted  any  improvement  1  They  prefer  to  pig  it, 
while  I  prefer  to  have  my  money.' 

*  Well,  Noel,  I  certainly  did  think  it  very  queer,  after 
I'd  taken  my  degree  at  Cambridge  and  got  the  Arabic 
scholarship  and  so  forth,  that  my  father  didn't  want  me  to 
go  out  to  the  island.  I  naturally  wanted  to  see  my  old 
homo  and  my  father  and  mother,  before  settling  down  to 
my  business  in  life  ;  and  I  wrote  and  told  them  so.  But 
my  father  wrote  back,  putting  me  off  with  all  sorts  of 
made-up  excuses  :  it  was  the  bad  season  of  the  year ;  there 
was  a  gr°at  deal  of  yellow  fever  about ;  he  was  very 
anxious  I  should  get  to  work  at  once  upon  my  law-reading ; 
he  wanted  me  to  be  called  to  the  bar  as  eirly  as  possible.* 

'  And  so,  just  to  please  the  old  gentleman,  you  left  your 
Arabic,  that  you  were  such  a  dab  at,  and  set  to  work  and 
mugged  up  over  Benjamin  on  Sales  and  Pollock  on  Mort- 
gages for  the  best  years  of  your  hfetime,  when  you  ought  to 


tN  ALL  BBATiEB 


have  been  shootrng  birds  in  De-^onshire  or  yachting  witu 
me  in  the  Princess  of  Thule  off  the  west  coast  of  Scotland. 
That's  not  my  theory  of  the  way  fathers  ought  to  be 
managed.  I  consented  to  become  a  barrister,  just  to  pacify 
Sir  Walter  for  the  moment ;  but  my  ideas  of  barriatering 
are  a  great  deal  more  elastic  and  generous  tlum  yours  are. 
I'm  quite  satisfied  with  getting  my  name  neatly  painted 
over  the  door  of  some  other  fellow's  convenient  chambers.' 
'  Yes,  yes,  of  course  you  are.  But  then  your  case  is 
very  different.  The  heir  to  an  English  baronetcy  needn't 
trouble  himself  about  his  future,  like  us  ordinary  mortals. 
But  if  I  didn't  work  hard  and  get  on  and  make  money,  I 
shouldn't  ever  be  able  to  marry — at  least  during  my  father's 
lifetime.' 

*  No  more  should  I,  my  dear  fellow.  Absolutely  im- 
possible. A  man  can't  marry  on  seven  hundred  a  year, 
you  see,  can  he  ?  * 

Edward  laughed.  '  I  could,'  he  answered,  *  very  easily. 
No  doubt,  you  couldn't.  But  then  you  haven't  got  any- 
body in  your  eye  ;  while  I,  you  know,  am  anxious  as  soon 
as  I  can  to  marry  Marian.' 

*  Not  got  anybody  in  my  eye  !  *  Harry  Noel  cried,  lean- 
ing back  in  his  chair  and  opening  his  two  hands  symboli- 
cally in  front  of  him  with  an  expansive  gesture.  '  Oh, 
haven't  I ;  just  dozens  of  them.  Only,  of  course,  it's  no 
use  a  poor  beggar  hke  me,  on  seven  hundred  a  year,  talking 
about  getting  married,  or  else  I'd  soon  take  my  pick  out  of 
the  whole  lot  of  them.  Why,  by  Jove,  there  was  a  pretty 
little  girl  I  saw  last  Wednesday  down  at  the  Buckleburies 
— a  Miss  Dupuy,  I  think,  they  called  her — by  the  way,,  a 
countrywoman  of  yours,  I  believe,  Edward,  from  Trinidad  ; 
or  was  it  ^Mauritius  ?  one  of  those  sugary-niggcry  places  or 
other,  anyhow ;  and  I  assure  you  I  fairly  lost  the  miserable 
relics  of  my  heart  to  her  at  our  first  meeting.  She's  going 
to  be  at  the  boat-race  to-morrow  ;  and  I'm  a  Dutchman  if 
I  don't  think  I'll  run  down  there  in  the  dog-cart  incon- 
tinently, on  the  spec,  of  seeing  her.  Will  you  come  with 
«ie?' 

*  But  how  about  that  devilling  of  Walker's  ?  * 

*0h,  nonsense.    Walker,  Q.C.,  may  devil  for  himself, 


IN  ALL  SHALES 


for  all  I  care  for  him.    Leave  him  alone  for  once  to  take 
care  of  himself,  ani  come  along  with  me.' 

*  What  o'clock  ? ' 

'Eleven.  A  reasonable  hour.  Ycu  don't  catch  me 
getting  up  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  making  the 
historical  Noel  nose,  which  I  so  proudly  inherit,  turn  blue 
with  cold  and  shivering  at  that  time  of  the  day,  even  for 
the  honour  of  the  old  'varsity.  Plenty  of  time  to  turn  in 
and  get  a  comfortable  snooze,  and  yet  have  breakfast 
decently  before  I  drive  you  down  to-morrow  morning  in 
my  new  dog-cart.' 

*  All  right.  I'll  come  with  you,  then. — Are  you  going 
out  now  ?    Just  post  that  letter  for  me,  please,  will  you  ? ' 

Noel  took  it  and  glanced  at  the  address  h  rlf  uninten- 
tionally. •  The  Hon.  James  Hawthorn,'  he  said,  reading 
it  over  in  a  thoughtless  mechanical  way  and  i:i  a  sort  of 
undertone  soliloquy,  *  Agualta  Estate,  Trinidad. — Why,  I 
didn't  know,  Teddy,  this  mysterious  governor  of  yours  was 
actually  a  real  hve  Honourable.  What  family  does  he 
belong  to,  then  ? ' 

*  I  don't  think  Honourable  means  that  out  in  the 
colonies,  you  know,' Edward  answered,  stirring  the  embers 
into  a  final  flicker.  '  I  fancy  it's  only  a  cheap  courtesy 
title  given  to  people  in  the  West  Indies  who  happen  to  be 
members  of  the  Legislative  Council.' 

•Legislative  Council!  Better  and  better.  My  dear 
Ted,  the  governor's  coiny,  you  may  depend  upon  it,  or 
else  he  wouldn't  be  admitti  into  the  legislature  of  his 
native  country.  A  man  w^ho  has  so  much  tin  to  spare 
that  he  can  afford  to  throw  some  of  it  away  in  attending  to 
the  affairs  of  the  nation — which  means,  after  all,  somebody 
else's  business — is  certain  to  be  coiny  ;  absolutely  certain. 
Bleed  him,  my  dear  boy ;  bleed  him  wholesomely.  As  a 
son  and  a  citizen,  it's  your  plain  duty  to  bleed  him  without 
flinching.  Think  for  a  moment  of  the  force  of  the  example ; 
think  how  eminently  undesirable  it  is  that  governors 
generally  should  get  into  the  habit  of  skulking  away  in 
remote  comers  of  the  uninhabitable  tropics,  on  purpose  so 
as  to  chouse  their  own  children  out  of  their  proper  reason- 
able allowances.    li'e  an  atrocious  proceeding  altogether, 


m  ALL  SHADES 


I  tell  yon,  and,  for  the  sake  of  the  wliole  community,  it 
ought  to  be  put  a  stop  to  immediately  without  any  question.' 
Edward  paused  for  a  minme,  still  seated,  and  poking 
away  nervously  at  the  dyin^  embers  ;  tlion  he  said  in  a 
more  serious  voice  :  *  Do  you  know,  Noel,  there's  a  district 
judgeship  in  Trinidad  going  to  be  filled  up  at  once  by  the 
Colonial  Office  ?  * 

*  Well,  my  dear  boy ;  what  of  tliat  ?  I  know  a  promis- 
ing young  barrister  of  the  Inner  Toiirple  who  isn't  going 
to  be  such  an  absurd  fool  as  to  take  the  place,  even  if  it's 
offered  to  him.* 

'  On  the  contrary,  Harry,  I've  sunt  in  an  application 
myself  for  the  post  this  very  evening.' 

'  My  dear  Hawthorn,  like  Paul,  you  are  beside  yourself. 
Much  learning — of  Walker  on  Specific  Performance— has 
made  you  mad,  I  solemnly  assure  you.  The  place  isn't 
worth  your  taking.' 

*  Nevertheless,  if  I  can  get  it,  Harry,  I  mean  to  take  it.' 

*  If  you  can  get  it  I  Fiddlesticks  !  If  you  can  get  a 
place  as  crossing-sweeper  !  My  good  friend,  this  is  pimple 
madness.  A  young  man  of  your  age,  a  boy,  a  mere  child  ' 
— they  were  both  the  same  age  to  a  month,  but  Harry 
Noel  always  assumed  the  airs  of  a  father  towards  his  friend 
Hawthorn — •  who  has  already  been  proinoted  to  devil  for 
Walker,  and  who  knows  the  most  hifluential  solicitor  in 
Chancery  Lane  personally — why,  it's  chucking  up  an  abso- 
lute certainty  ;  an  absolute  certainty,  and  no  mistake  about 
it.  You're  the  best  Arabic  scholar  in  England  ;  it'd  be 
worth  your  while  stopping  here,  if  it  comes  to  that,  for  the 
sake  of  the  Arabic  Prolessorship  alone,  rather  than  go  and 
live  in  Trinidad.  If  you  take  my  advice,  my  dear  fellow, 
you'll  have  notliinr,'  move  to  say  to  the  precious  business.' 

*  Well,  Harry,  I  have  two  reasons  for  wishing  to  take 
it.  In  the  first  place,  I  want  to  marry  Marian  as  early  as 
possible ;  and  I  can't  marry  her  imtil  I  can  make  myself  a 
decent  income.' 

*  Bleed  him !  bleed  him ! '  Harry  Noel  ejaculated  pa- 
renthetically, in  a  gentle  whisper. 

*  And  in  the  second  place,'  Edward  went  on,  without 
■topping  to  notice  the  muttered  interruption,  *  I  want  to 


i  IN  ALL  SEADSa 

go  out  as  soon  as  I  can  and  see  my  father  and  mother  in 
Trinidad.  If  I  get  this  district  judgeship,  I  shall  be  able 
to  write  and  tell  them  positively  I'm  coming,  and  they 
won't  have  any  excuse  of  any  sort  for  putting  a  stopper  on 
it  any  loiTrer.' 

•  In  oth  !r  words,  in  order  to  go  and  spy  out  the  hidden 
wealth  fjf  tlie  coiny  oici  governor,  you're  going  to  chuck 
away  the  linest  opening  at  the  English  bar,  and  bind  your- 
self down  to  a  life  of  exile  in  a  rei  lote  corner  of  the  Carib- 
bean Sea.  I  believe  they  call  the  sea  the  Caribbean  ;  but 
anyhow,  v/hether  or  not,  it  sounds  awfully  fine  to  end  a 
sentence  with.  Well,  my  good  friend,  if  you  really  do  it, 
all  that  I  can  say  is  simply  this — you'll  prove  yourself  the 
most  consummate  ass  in  all  Christendom.' 

'  Noel,  I've  made  my  mind  up ;  I  shall  really  go  there.' 

•  Then,  my  dear  boy,  allow  me  to  teU  you,  as  long  as 
you  live  you  will  never  cease  to  regret  it.  I  believe  you'll 
repent  it,  before  you're  done,  in  sackcloth  and  ashes.' 

Edward  stirred  the  dead  fire  nervously  once  more  for  a 
few  seconds  and  answered  nothing. 

•  Good-night,  Hawthorn.  You'll  be  ready  to  start  for 
the  boat-race  at  ten  to-mormw  ? ' 

•Good-night,  Harry.  I'll  be  ready  to  start.  Good- 
night, my  dear  fellow.' 

Noel  turned  and  left  the  room  ;  but  Edward  Hawthorn 
stood  still,  with  his  bedroom  candle  poised  reflectively  in 
one  hand,  looking  long  and  steadfastly  with  fixed  eyes  at 
his  father's  and  mother's  photographs  before  him.  *  A 
grand-looking  old  man,  my  father,  certainly,'  he  said  to 
himself,  scanning  the  fine  broad  brow  and  firm  but  te/ider 
mouth  wi«h  curious  attention — '  a  grand-looking  old  man, 
without  a  doubt,  tliere's  no  denying  it.  But  I  wonder  why 
on  earth  he  doesn't  want  mo  to  fro  out  to  Trinidad?  And 
a  beautiful,  gentle,  lovable  old  lady,  if  ever  there  was  one 
on  'liiB  earth,  my  mother  1 ' 


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I 


i 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


CHAPTER  n. 

You  wouldn't  have  found  two  handsomer  or  finer  young 
men  on  the  day  of  the  boat-race,  in  all  London,  than  the 
two  who  started  on  the  new  dog-cart,  at  ten  o'clock,  from 
the  door  of  Harry  Noel's  comfortable  chambers  in  a  quaint 
old  house  in  Duke  Street,  St.  James's.  And  yet  they  were 
very  different  in  type  indeed ;  as  widely  different  as  it  is 
possible  for  any  two  young  men  to  be,  both  of  whom  were 
quite  unmistakable  and  undeniable  young  Enghshmen. 

Harry  Noel  was  hoir  of  one  of  the  oldest  and  bluest- 
blooded  families  in  all  Lincolnshire ;  but  his  face  and 
figure  were  by  no  means  those  of  the  typical  Danes  in  that 
most  distinctively  Danish  of  English  counties.  Sir  Walter, 
his  father,  was  tall  and  fair — a  bluff,  honest,  hard-featured 
Lincolnshire  man  ;  but  Harry  himself  took  rather  after  his 
mother,  the  famous  Lady  Noel,  once  considered  the  most 
beautiful  woman  of  her  time  in  London  society.  He  was 
somewhat  short  and  well  knit;  a  very  dark  man,  with 
black  hair,  moustache,  and  beard ;  and  his  face  was  hand- 
some with  something  of  a  southern  and  fiery  handsomen  is, 
like  his  mother's,  reminding  one  at  times  of  the  purest 
Itahan  or  Castllian  stocks.  There  was  undeniable  pride 
about  his  upper  lip  and  his  eager  flashing  black  ;jye ;  whiU 
his  customary  nonchalance  and  coolness  of  air  never  com- 
pletely hid  the  hot  and  passionate  southern  temperament 
that  underlay  that  false  exterior  of  Pall  Mall  cynicism.  A 
man  to  avoid  picking  a  quarrel  with,  certainly,  was  Harrj 
Noel,  of  the  Inner  Temple,  and  of  Noel  Hall,  near  Boston, 
Lincolnshire,  barrister-at-law. 

Edward  Hawthorn,  on  the  other  hand,  was  tall  and 
slight,  though  strongly-built ;  a  perfect  model  of  the  pure 
Anglo-Saxon  type  of  manhood,  with  straight  fair  hair, 
nearer  white  almost  than  yellow,  and  deep-blue  eyes,  that 
were  none  the  less  transparently  true  and  earnest  because 
of  their  intense  and  unmixed  blueness.  His  face  was  clear- 
eat  and  deUcately  moulded ;  and  the  pale  and  singularly 
0traw-eoloiirAr}  mv>u>tach«,  which  aloa«  wm  allowed  lo 


10 


nr  ALL  SHADES 


hide  any  part  of  its  exquisite  outline,  did  not  provent  one 
from  seeing  at  a  glance  the  almost  faultless  Greek  rega- 
laiity  of  his  perfectly  calm  and  statuesque  features.  Har/y 
Noel's  was,  in  Ghort,  the  kind  of  face  that  women  are  most 
likely  to  fall  in  love  with  :  Edward  Hawthorn's  was  the 
kind  that  an  avtist  would  rather  rejoice  to  paint,  or  that  a 
sculptor  would  still  more  eagerly  wish  to  model  in  the  per- 
fect simplicity  of  pure  white  marble. 

'  Much  better  to  go  down  by  the  road,  you  know, 
Teddy,'  Harry  Noel  said  as  they  took  their  seats  in  the  new 
dog-cart.  *  All  the  cads  in  London  are  going  down  by 
rail,  of  course.  The  whole  riff-raff  of  our  fellow-mau 
that  you're  always  talldng  about  so  sympathetically,  with 
your  absurd  notions,  overflows  to-day  from  its  natural 
reservoirs  in  the  third  class  into  the  upper  tanks  of  first 
and  second.  Impossible  to  travel  on  the  line  this  morning 
without  getting  one's-sclf  jammed  and  elbowed  by  all  the 
tinkers  and  tailors,  soldiers  and  sailors,  butchers  and 
bakers  and  candlestick  makers  in  the  whole  of  London. 
Enough  to  cure  even  you,  I  should  think,  of  all  your  non- 
sensical rights-of-man  and  ideal  equality  business.' 

•  Have  you  ever  travelled  t)iird  yourself,  to  see  what  it 
was  really  like,  Harry  ?  I  have ;  and,  for  my  part,  I  think 
the  third-class  people  generally  rather  kinder  and  mora 
unselfish  at  bottom  than  the  first  or  second.' 

*  ^ly  dear  follow,  on  your  recommendation  I  tried  it  last 
week ;  and  got  such  a  tremendous  facer  from  a  Radical 
v.orking-man  as  I  never  before  got,  and  never  expect  to 
got  again,  in  the  wliole  course  of  my  earthly  existence. 
The  creature  opposite  me  was  a  democratic  Methodist,  I 
think  he  called  it,  or  something  else  equally  impossible, 
and  he  was  haranguing  away  about  the  wickedness  of  the 
aristocracy,  and  the  toiling  millions,  and  Lazarus  and 
Dives,  and  all  the  rest  of  it ;  and  at  last  he  went  on 
abusing  me  and  my  fnends — by  implication — so  con- 
foundedly, that  I  really  couldn't  stand  it  any  longer,  "  My 
good  sir,"  said  I,  leaning  over  ^^wards  him  very  deferen- 
tiaDy — for  there  were  half  a  aozen  of  them,  all  frantio 
revolutionists  and  big  hus.lmg  fellows,  in  tlto  same  carriage 
— "  my  ^ood  BUT,"  said  I.  **  do  you  know,  all  abstract  pria- 


tN  ALL  SHADES 


11 


provent  one 
Greek  rega- 
ires.  Har.y 
ten  are  most 
•n's  was  the 
Lit,  or  that  a 

I  in  the  per- 

you  know, 
3  in  the  new 

ig  down  by 

fellow-man 

tically,  with 

its  natural 

inks  of  first 

his  morning 

id  by  all  the 

itchers   and 

of  London. 

II  your  non- 
ess.' 

see  what  it 
)art,  I  think 
r  and  mora 

ried  it  last 
a  Badical 
expect  to 
existence, 
ethodist,  I 
inpossible, 
aess  of  the 
izarus  and 
e  went  on 
— so  con- 
ger„  "  My 
ry  deferen- 
all  frantio 
le  oarriagt 
ract  prin- 


cipigs  must  of  course  be  finally  judged,  in  this  confessedly 
imperfect  world  of  ours,  by  their  practical  effects  when 
actually  tested  in  the  concrete  appUcatioD  ?  Now,  there 
was  a  time  in  the  liistory  of  the  world  when  these  liberty, 
equality,  frateniity  notions  of  yours  were  fairly  tried  in 
real  earnest.  That  time  was  in  the  French  Revolution. 
Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you  think  the  result  of  the  French 
Revolution  was  of  a  sort  to  encourage  further  experiments 
in  the  same  direction  ?  "  And  what  do  you  suppose  the 
fellow  answered  me  ?  He  looked  up  in  my  face  with  the 
most  profound  solemnity,  and  said  he :  **  Well,  and  didn't 
we  beat  the  French  at  Waterloo? " ' 

Edward  laughed  heartily.  '  What  did  you  say  tc 
that  ?  *  he  asked,  with  a  twmkle. 

'  Say  ?  My  dear  fellow,  what  on  earth  could  I  say  ? 
When  a  man  gets  shut  up  like  a  telescope  by  a  regular 
downright  overwhelming  now  scqidtur  like  that,  any  answei 
or  repartee  at  all  is  absolutely  impossible.  Basides^  all  the 
free  and  independent  electors  in  the  carriage  with  him 
were  perfectly  delighted  to  see  how  completely  he  had 
bowled  over  the  obstructive  and  anti-democratic  scoffer. 
•  He  ain't  got  nothing  to  say  after  that,  anyway,'  they  all 
whispered  to  one  another,  grinning  and  winking.  I  sub- 
sided utterly  into  the  obscurest  corner ;  I  collapsed,  morally 
speaking,  and  was  absolutely  annihilated.  From  this  day 
forth,  I  never  mean  to  travel  any  more  in  third-class 
carriages,  or  to  try  arguing  under  any  provocation  with  the 
great  proletariate.  Their  logic  is  too  pecuharly  perplexed 
for  me  to  make  my  way  through  it.  And  these  are  the 
kind  of  fellows  that  you  and  your  friends  want  to  sot  up  to 
gnvem  us  and  dance  upon  us  I  It  won't  hold  water,  my 
dear  bov ;  it  won't  hold  water.  I  never  can  understand  a 
sensible  sound-headed  man  Hke  you  being  taken  in  by  it  for 
a  single  minute.' 

*  Perhaps,'  Edward  said  quietly,  *  you  might  have  found 
some  quite  as  densely  illogical  fellows  in  others  beside  a 
third-class  carriage. — But  where  are  you  going  to  look  for 
your  beautiful  young  lady  fiora  Trinidad  or  Mauritius? 
You  made  her  the  ostensible  pvutext,  you  know,  for  going 
to  the  boat-race.' 


11  IN  ALL  SHADES 

*  Ob,  for  that  I  trast  entirely  to  the  chapter  of  aceidentfl. 
She  said  she  was  going  down  to  see  the  race  from  some- 
body's lawn,  facing  the  river ;  and  I  shall  force  my  way 
along  the  path,  as  far  as  I  can  get,  and  simply  look  out  for 
her.  K  we  see  her,  I  mean  to  push  boldly  for  an  introduc- 
tion to  the  somebody  unnamed  who  owns  the  lawn.  Leave 
the  dog-cart  at  some  inn  or  other  down  at  Putney,  stroll 
along  the  river  casually  till  you  see  a  beatific  vision  of 
sweet  nineteen  or  thereabout,  walk  in  quietly  as  if  the 
place  belonged  to  you,  and  there  you  are.' 

They  drove  on  to  Putney  through  the  crowded  roads, 
and  put  the  dog-cart  up  at  the  Coach  and  Horses^  Then 
Harrv  and  Edward  took  to  the  still  more  crowded  bank, 
and  began  to  push  their  way  among  the  densely  packed 
masses  of  nondescript  humanity  in  the  direction  of  Barnes 
Bridge. 

'  Stand  out  of  the  way  there,  can't  joa,'  Haxry  Noel 
cried,  elbowing  aside  a  sturdy  London  rough  as  he  spoke 
with  a  dexterous  application  of  his  gold-tipped  umbrella. 
*  Why  do  you  get  in  people's  way  and  block  the  road  up, 
my  good  fellow  ? ' 

*  Where  are  you  a-pushin*  to  f '  the  rough  answered, 
not  without  reason,  crowding  in  upon  him  sturdily  in 
defence  of  his  natural  rights  of  standing-room,  and  bring- 
ing his  heavy  foot  down  plump  on  Harry  Noel's  neatly 
fitting  walking  shoe.  '  An'  who  are  yon,  I  should  Uke  to 
know,  a-sho\in'  other  people  aside  permiscuous  Uke,  as  if 
you  was  acshaiiy  the  Prince  of  Wales  or  thp  Dook  of 
Edingboro  ?  I'd  like  to  hear  you  call  me  a  fellow  again, 
I  should  1    Fellow  indeed  1    A  fellow's  a  sheep-stealer ! ' 

'  Appears  to  be  some  confusion  in  the  man's  mind,' 
Harry  Noel  said,  pushing  past  him  angrily,  '  between  a 
fellow  and  a  felon.  I  haven't  got  an  etymological  dic- 
tionary handy  in  my  jpocket,  I  regret  to  say,  but  I  venture 
to  beUeve,  my  good  friend,  that  your  philology  is  quite  as 
much  at  fault  in  this  matter  as  your  English  grammar.' 

'My  dear  Noel,'  Edward  Hawthorn  put  in,  'please 
don't  add  insult  to  injury.  The  man's  quite  within  his 
right  in  objecting  to  your  pushing  liim  out  of  ft  place  he 
iQ%k  \kf  before  yeu  eame  here.    Po^essioa's  Mat  poifits  of 


i 


TN  ALL   SHADES 


18 


}[  accidents, 
from  Bome- 
rce  my  way 
look  out  for 
m  introduc- 
/wn.  Leave 
itney,  stroll 
[0  vision  of 
y  as  if  the 

vded  roads, 
rses*  Then 
wded  bank, 
sely  packed 
n  of  Barnes 

Harry  Noel 
bs  he  spoke 
i  umbrella, 
le  road  up, 

I  answered, 

sturdily  in 

and  bring- 

Del's  neatly 

3uld  like  to 

B  like,  as  if 

IP  Dook  of 

llow  again, 

stealer  I ' 

m's  mind,* 

between  a 

ogical  dio- 

I  venture 

is  quite  as 

ammar.' 

in,  'please 

within  his 

ft  place  he 

It  poiAis  •£ 


; 
\ 


the  law,  you  know — ten  in  the  matter  of  occupancy,  indeed 
— and  surely  he's  the  prior  occupant.' 

*  Oh,  if  you're  going  to  hold  a  brief  for  the  defendant, 
my  dear  boy,  why,  of  course  I  throw  the  case  up;  I 
immediately  enter  a  nolle  prosequi. — Besides,  tlicre  she  is, 
Teddy.  By  Jove,  there  she  is.  That's  her.  Over  yonder 
on  the  lawn  there — the  very  pretty  girl  by  the  edge  of  tlio 
wall  overhanging  the  path  here.' 

'  What,  the  cne  in  blue  ? ' 

*  The  one  in  blue  !  Gracious  Heavens,  no.  Is  the  man 
mad  ?  The  one  in  blue,  he  positively  says  to  me  1  Do  you 
mean  to  say  you  call  her  pretty  ?  No,  no  ;  not  her.  The 
other  one — the  very  pretty  girl ;  the  one  in  the  pink  dress, 
as  fresh  as  a  daisy.    Did  you  ever  see  anybody  prettier  ? ' 

*  Oh,  her,'  Edward  aiiswered,  looking  across  at  the 
lady  in  pink  carelessly.  •  Yes,  yes ;  I  see  now.  Pretty 
enough,  as  you  say,  Harry.' 

*  Pretty  enough  I  Is  that  all  you've  got  to  say  about 
her  I  You  block  of  ice  !  you  lump  c  f  marble  1  Why,  my 
dear  fellow,  she's  absolute  perfection.  That's  the  worst, 
now,  of  a  man's  being  engaged.  He  loses  his  eye  entirely 
for  female  beauty.  He  believes  all  possible  human  charms 
are  exclusively  summed  up  in  his  own  particular  Maud  or 
Angelina.  For  my  part,  Ted,  I  go  in  for  a  judicious 
eclecticism.  They're  all  pretty  alike,  while  you're  with 
them  :  each  new  one  seems  the  prettiest  jou've  ever  seen 
— till  you've  got  tired  of  her.' 

*  "What  did  you  say  her  name  was  ?  ' 

*  Miss  Dupuy.    I'll  introduce  you  in  a  minute.* 

*  But,  my  dear  Harry,  where  are  you  going  ?  We 
don't  even  know  the  people.* 

•Nothing  easier,  then.  We'll  proceed  to  make  their 
acquaintance.  See  what  a  lot  of  cads  climbing  up  and 
sitting  on  the  wall  obstructing  the  view  there  1  First, 
seat  yourself  firmly  on  the  top  the  sinne  as  they  do  ;  then, 
proceed  to  knock  otf  the  other  intruders,  as  if  you  be- 
longed to  the  party  by  invitation  ;  tinally,  slip  over  quietly 
inside,  and  mix  with  the  lot  exactly  as  if  you  really  knew 
them.  There  are  such  a  precious  crowd  of  people  inside, 
that  nobody'll  ever  find  out  you  weren't  invited.    I've  long 


'rr 


}4 


m  ALL  SBA3Eii 


observed  that  nobody  ever  knows  who's  who  at  a  garden- 
party,  even.  The  father  always  thinks  his  son  knows 
you;  and  the  son  always  fancies  indefinitely  you're  par- 
ticular friends  of  his  fatlicr  and  mother.' 

As  Harry  spoke,  he  had  already  vaulted  lightly  on  to 
the  top  of  the  wall,  which  was  steep  and  high  on  the  side 
towards  the  river,  but  stood  only  about  two  feet  above  the 
bank  on  the  inner  side  ;  and  Edward,  seeirg  nothing  else 
to  do  but  follow  his  example,  had  '.aken  with  shame  a  con- 
venient seat  beside  him.  In  a  minute  more,  Harry  was 
busily  engaged  in  clearing  off  the  oLher  unauthorised 
squatters,  like  an  invited  guest ;  and  tvvo  minutes  later,  he 
had  transferred  his  legs  to  the  inner  side  of  the  wall,  and 
was  quietly  identifying  himself  with  the  party  of  spectators 
on  the  lawn  and  garden.  Edward,  who  was  not  a  baronet's 
son,  and  was  blessed  with  less  audacity  in  social  matters 
than  his  easy-going  friend,  could  only  admire  without 
wholly  imitating  his  ready  adaptiveness. 

*  Miss  Dupuy  1  How  delightful !  So  here  you  are  ! 
This  is  indeed  lucky  1  I  came  down  on  purpose  to  see 
you.  How  very  fortunate  I  should  happen  to  have  dropped 
down  upon  you  so  unexpectedly.' 

Nora  Dupuy  smiled  a  delicious  smile  of  frank  and  in- 
nocent girhsh  welcome,  and  held  out  her  pretty  little 
gloved  hand  to  Harry  half  timidly.  •  Why,  Mr.  Noel,' 
she  said,  blushing  prettily,  *  I  hadn't  the  very  slightest 
idea  you  knew  our  good  friends  the  Boddingtons.' 

'  Mr,  Boddington  ? '  Harry  Noel  asked,  with  a  markai 
emphasis  on  the  dubious  Mr, 

*  No ;  Colonel  Boddington,  of  the  Bengal  Staff  Corps. 
"Why,  how  on  earth  do  you  happen  not  to  know  their  name 
even  ?    Have  you  come  here,  then,  with  somebody  ?  ' 

'  Exactly,'  Harry  said,  turning  to  Edward,  who  was 
speechless  with  surprise.  '  Allow  me  to  introduce  him. 
My  friend,  Mr.  Hawthorn,  a  shining  light  of  the  Utter 
Bar. — Bj  the  way,  didn't  you  say  you  came  from  Trinidad 
or  Mauritius  or  Ceylon  or  somewhere  ?  I  remember  dis- 
tinctly you  left  upon  me  a  general  impression  of  tropical 
fragrance,  thougn  I  can't  say  J,  reooUattt  preoisalj  Ui» 
particular  habitat.* 


nr  ALL  BEADEB 


If 


\i  a  garden- 

}  son  knows 

you're  par- 

[ig'htly  on  to 
1  en  the  side 
let  above  the 
nothing  elso 
(hame  a  con- 
B,  Harry  was 
imauthorised 
ites  later,  he 
;he  wall,  and 
of  spectators 
it  a  baronet's 
ocial  matters 
aire  without 

jre  you  are ! 
irpose  to  see 
bave  dropped 

frank  and  in- 
pretty  little 
Mr.  Noel,' 
ery  slightest 
ns.' 
ith  a  markai 

Staff  Corpa. 
yf  their  name 
body  ?  • 
rd,  who  was 
iroduce  him. 
of  the  Utter 
om  Trinidad 
member  dis- 
a  of  tropical 
irsoisaly  th» 


Nora  smiled  again,  and  blushed  even  more  deeply  than 
before.  '  It  was  Trinidad/  she  answered,  looking  down  as 
she  spoke. — '  Why,  Mr.  Noel,  what  about  it  ?  * 

'  Why,  my  friend  Hawthorn  here  oomes  from  Trinidad 
too,  so  you  ought  to  be  neighbours ;  though,  as  be  hasn't 
been  there  himself  for  a  great  many  years,  I  dare  say 
you  won't  know  one  another.' 

*  Oh,  everybody  in  Trinidad  knows  everybody  else,  of 
eourse,'  Nora  answered,  half  turning  to  Edward.  'It's 
such  a  little  pocket  colony,  you  know,  that  we're  all  first- 
oousins  to  one  another  through  aU  the  island.  I'm  not 
acquainted  with  all  the  people  in  Trinidad  myself,  natur- 
ally, because  I  haven't  oeen  there  since  I  was  a  baby, 
almost ;  but  my  father  would  be  perfectly  sure  to  know 
him,  at  any  rate,  I'm  confident. — What  did  you  say  your 
friend's  name  was,  Mr.  Noel  ? ' 

'Hawthorn,'  Edward  answered  quickly  for  himself — 
•  Edward  Hawthorn.' 

'  Oh,  Mr.  Hawthorn,*  Nora  repeated  reflectively.  *  Let 
me  see.  Hawthorn,  Hawthorn.  No;  I  don't  think  I 
ever  heard  the  name  before— connected  with  Trinidad,  I 
mean ;  in  fact,  I'm  sure  not.  Hawthorn,  Hawthorn.  Do 
yoiur  people  live  ou^  there  still,  Mr.  Hawthorn,  or  have 
they  settled  over  in  England  ? ' 

'  My  father  and  mother  are  still  in  the  island,'  Edward 
answered,  a  little  uncomfortably.  '  My  father  is  Mr.  James 
Hawthorn,  of  Agualta  Estate,  a  place  at  the  north  side  of 
Trinidad.' 

'  Agualta  Estate,'  Nora  replied,  turning  the  name  over 
with  herself  once  more  dubiously,  *  Agualta  Estate.  I've 
certainlv  heard  the  name  of  the  place,  I'm  sure ;  but 
never  of  your  people  until  this  minute.    How  very  funny.' 

'  It's  a  long  time  since  you've  been  in  the  island,  you 
say,'  Harry  Noel  put  in  suggestively,  'and  no  doubt 
you've  forgotten  Mr.  Hawthorn's  father's  name.  He  must 
be  pretty  well  known  in  Trinidad,  I  should  think,  for  he's 
an  Honourable,  you  know,  and  a  member  of  the  local 
Legislative  Council.' 

Nora  looked  decidedly  puzzled.  '  A  member  of  ths 
Legislative  Counsil,'  sbt  said  in  soms  surprise.    *  That 


!T 


IC 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


ijiakes  it  even  funnier  and  funnier.  My  papa's  a  member 
of  Council  too,  and  he  knows  everybody  in  the  place,  you 
know — that  is  to  say,  of  course,  everybody  who's  any- 
body ;  and  poor  mamma  used  always  to  write  me  home 
the  chattiest  letters,  all  about  everybody  and  everybody's 
wife  and  daughters,  and  all  the  society  gossip  of  the 
colony;  and  then  I  see  so  many  Trinidad  people  when 
they  come  home ;  and  altogether,  I  really  thought  I  knew, 
by  name  at  least,  absolutely  everyone  in  the  whole  island.* 

*  And  this  proves  you  must  be  mistaken,  Miss  Dupuy,' 
Harry  Noel  put  in  careViJoly  ;  for  he  was  half  jealous  that 
his  own  special  and  peculiar  discovery  in  pretty  girls 
should  Lake  so  much  interest  in  Edward  Hawthorn.  *  But 
anyhow,  you'll  know  all  about  him  before  very  long,  I've 
no  doubt,  for  HawtJiorn's  going  to  take  a  judgeship  in  the 
uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  even  Trinidad.  He'll  bo 
going  out  there,  no  doubt,  from  what  he  tells  me,  in  a 
month  or  so  from  now,  the  silly  fellow.* 

'  Going  out  there !  '  cried  Nora.  *  Oh,  how  nice.  Why, 
I  shall  be  going  out,  too,  in  the  end  of  June.  How 
delightful,  if  wo  should  both  happen  to  sail  in  the  same 
steamer  together ! ' 

*  Very,'  Harry  echoed,  a  little  snappishly — •  for  Haw- 
thorn. I  should  envy  him  the  voyage  immensely.  But 
you  don't  mean  to  say.  Miss  Dupuy,  you're  really  going  to 
bury  yourself  ahve  in  the  West  Indies  ?  * 

*  Oh,  I  don't  call  it  buiyiug  alive,  Mr.  Noel ;  it's 
perfectly  dehglitful,  I  believe,  from  what  I  remember. 
Summer  all  the  year  round,  and  dancing,  with  all  the  doors 
and  windows  open,  from  September  to  April.' 

'  Gracious  Heavens,  which  is  Colonel  Boddington  ?  * 
Harry  exclaimed  eagerly  at  this  particular  moment,  for 
he  saw  an  old  gentleman  of  mihtary  aspect  strolling  up 
casually  to  speak  to  Nora.  •  Point  me  out  my  host,  for 
mercy  s  sake,  or  else  he'll  be  bringing  a  summary  action 
for  ejectment  against  us  both  as  rogues  and  vagabonds.' 

'  This  is  he,*  Nora  said,  as  the  military  gentleman 
approached  nearer.  '  Don't  you  know  him  ?  Perhaps  I'd 
better  introduce  yso.  Colonel  Boddington — Mr.  Noel,  Mr* 
Hawthorn.' 


I 

i 


^ 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


IT 


's  a  member 

G  place,  you 
who's  any- 
;e  me  home 
everybody's 
ssip  of  the 
eople  when 
ght  I  knew, 
liole  island.' 
[iss  Dupuy,' 
jealous  that 
pretty  girls 
lorn.  *  But 
ry  long,  I've 
esliip  in  the 
[.  He'll  bo 
Is  me,  in  a 

nice.  Why, 
^une.  How 
in  the  same 

— '  for  Haw- 

iiisely.  But 
illy  going  to 

.  Noel;  it's 

remember. 

all  the  doors 

jddington  ?  * 
Qoment,  for 
strolling  up 
ay  host,  for 
mary  action . 
^abonds.' 
'  gentleman 
Perhaps  I'd 
.  NoeL  Mr, 


•And  I'd  better  make  a  clean  breast  of  it  at  once,' 
Harry  Noel  continued,  smiling  gracefully  with  his  pleasant 
easy  smile — Edward  would  have  sunk  bodily  into  the  earth 
ahve,  rather  than  make  the  ridiculous  confession.  *  The 
fact  is,  we're  intruders  into  your  domain,  sir— unauthorised 
intniders.  We  took  our  seats  on  the  top  of  your  wall  to 
watch  the  race  ;  and  when  we  got  there,  we  found  a  number 
of  roughs  were  obstructing  the  view  for  the  ladies  of  your 
party ;  and  we  assisted  the  gentlemen  of  your  sot  in  clearing 
the  ground ;  and  then,  as  1  saw  my  friend  Viss  Dupuy  was 
here,  I  made  bold  to  jump  over  and  com^  to  speak  to  her, 
feeling  sure  that  a  previous  acquaintance  with  her  would 
be  a  sufficient  introduction  into  your  pleasant  society  here. 
— What  a  deUghtful  place  you've  got  on  the  river  here, 
really.' 

Colonel  Boddington  bowed  stiffly.  '  Any  friend  of  Miss 
Dupuy 's  is  quite  welcome  here,  I'm  sure,'  he  said  with 
some  chilly  severity. — *  Did  I  understand  Miss  Dupuy  to 
say  your  name  was  Rowell  ? ' 

*  Noel,'  Harry  corrected,  smiling  benignly — '  Noel,  Noel. 
You  may  possibly  know  my  father,  as  I  understand,  from 
Miss  Dupuy,  you're  a  Lincolnshire  man '  (this  was  a  white- 
lie,  but  it  sufficiently  served  Harry's  purpose) — Sir  Walter 
Noel,  of  Noel  Hall,  near  Boston,  Lincolnshire.' 

Colonel  Boddington  unbent  visibly.  '  I'm  very  glad  of 
this  opportunity,  I'm  sure,  Mr.  Noel,'  he  said  with  his  most 
gracious  manner.  *  As  I  remarked  before,  Miss  Dupuy's 
friends  will  always  be  welcome  with  us.  Since  you've 
dropped  in  so  unexpectedly,  perhaps  you  and  Mr. — I  didn't 
catch  the  name — will  stop  and  take  a  little  lunch  with  us. 
Our  friends  mean  to  join  us  at  lunch  after  the  race  is  over.' 

'  Delighted,  I'm  sure,'  Harry  answered,  quite  truthfully. 
Nothing  could  have  pleased  him  better  than  this  oppor- 
tunity. •  Here  they  come — here  they  come  !  Round  the 
comer  1  Cambridge  heads  the  race,  by  Jove.  Cambridge, 
Cambridge  ! '  And  for  five  minutes  there  was  a  fluttering 
of  handkerchiefs  and  straining  of  eyes  and  confused  sound 
of  shouts  and  laughter,  which  left  no  time  for  Harry  or 
anyone  else  to  indulge  in  rational  conversation. 

After  the  boats  had  passed  out  of  sigiil,  and  the  eom- 


IS 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


pany  had  retnmed  to  the  paths  of  sanity  oncd  more,  Nora 
Dupuy  turned  round  to  Edward  and  asked  curiously :  *  Do 
you  happen  to  know  any  people  of  the  name  of  Ord,  Mr. 
Hawthorn  ? ' 

Edward  smiled  as  he  answered :  '  General  Ord's  family  f 
Oh,  yes,  I  know  them  very  well  indeed — quite  intimately, 
in  fact.' 

Nora  clapped  her  little  hands  in  a  sort  of  triumph. 
'  Oh,  how  nice  I  *  she  said  gaily.  *  Then  you  are  the  Mr. 
Hawthorn  who  is  engaged  to  dear  Marian.  I  felt  sure  you 
must  be,  the  moment  I  heard  your  name.  Oh,  I  do  so 
hope,  then,  you'll  get  this  vacant  Trinidad  appointment.' 

*  Get  it !  He'll  get  it  as  sure  as  fate,'  Harry  said  inter- 
vening. *  But  why  on  earth  are  you  so  anxious  he  should 
take  it  ? ' 

•Why,  because,  then,  Marian  would  get  married,  of 
course,  and  come  out  with  him  to  live  in  Trinidad. 
Wouldn't  that  be  just  dehghtful  I ' 

*  If  they  do,'  Harry  said  quietly,  *  and  if  you're  going 
to  be  there,  too,  Miss  Dupuy,  I  declare  I  shall  come  out 
myself  on  purpose  to  visit  them.' 


CHAPTER  m. 

'  Ob,  Marian,  do  you  know,  I've  met  Mr.  Hawthorn ;  and 
what  a  delightful  man  he  is  !  I  quite  fell  in  love  with  him 
myself,  I  assure  you  I  Wasn't  it  absurd  ?  He  came  down 
the  other  morning  to  the  boat-race  ;  and  he  and  a  friend 
of  his  popitively  jumped  over  the  wall,  without  an  in- 
vitation, into  old  Colonel  Boddington's  front  garden.' 

Marian  took  Nora's  hand  warmly.  *  I'm  so  glad  you 
like  Edward,'  she  said,  kissing  lier  cheek  and  smoothing 
her  forehead.  'I  was  sure  you'd  like  him.  I've  been 
longing  for  you  to  come  to  town  ever  since  we  got  engaged, 
so  tiiat  you  might  manage  to  see  him. — Well,  dear,  and  do 
you  think  him  handsome  ? ' 

'  Handsome  1  Oh,  Marian,  awfully  handsome ;  and  so 
nice,  too,  dear.    And  such  a  sweet  voice  and  manner,  so 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


If 


grave  and  cultivated,  somehow.  I  always  do  like  Oxford 
and  Cambridge  men — ever  so  much  better  than  army  men, 
Marian.' 

*  Who  had  he  with  him  at  the  boat-race  ?  *  Marian 
asked. 

*  Oh,  my  dear,  Buch  a  funny  man — a  Mr.  Noel,  whom 
I  met  last  week  down  at  the  Buckleburies.  Colonel  Bod< 
dington  says  his  father's  one  of  the  greatest  swells  in  all 
Lincolnshire — a  Sir  Somebody  Noel,  or  something.  And 
do  you  know,  Marian,  he  simply  jumped  over  the  waU, 
without  knowing  the  Boddingtons  one  bit,  just  because  he 
saw  me  there — wasn't  it  dreadful  of  him,  after  only  meeting 
me  once,  too? — and  then  apologised  to  the  old  Colonel, 
who  looked  as  if  he  would  have  sunk  into  the  giound  in 
horror  at  such  an  awful  and  unprecedented  proceeding. 
But  the  moment  Mr.  Noel  said  something  or  other  inci- 
dentally about  his  father  Sir  Somebody,  the  Colonel  became 
as  mild  as  a  lamb,  and  asked  him  to  lunch  at  once,  and 
tried  to  put  him  sitting  right  between  Minnie  and  Adela. 
And  Mr.  Noel  managed  to  shuffle  out  of  it  somehow,  and 
got  on  one  side  of  me,  with  Mr.  Hawthorn  on  the  other 
side;  and  he  talked  so  that  he  kept  me  laughing  right 
through  the  whole  of  lunch-time.* 

*He's  awfully  amusing,'  Marian  said  with  a  shght 
smile. — 'And  I  suppose  you  rather  liked  Mr.  Noel,  too, 
didn't  you,  Nora?' 

Nora  shook  her  head  energetically.  *No,  my  dear; 
not  my  sort  of  man  at  ai.,  really.  I  certainly  wasn't  in 
the  least  taken  with  him.' 

*  Not  a  httle  bit  even,  Nora  ? ' 

Nora  pulled  out  the  petals  of  the  faded  rose  she  was 
wearing  in  her  bosom  with  a  petulant  gesture.  *  Not  even 
a  Uttle  bit,  dear,'  she  answered  decidedly.  *  He  isn't  at 
all  the  sort  of  man  I  should  ever  care  for.  Too  dark  for 
me,  by  several  shades,  for  one  thing,  Marian.  You  know, 
we  West  Indians  never  can  endure  these  very  dark  people.' 

'  But  I'm  dark,  Nora,  and  you  hke  me,  you  know,  don't 
yon  ?  • 

'  Oh,  yon.  Yes ;  that's  quite  another  thing,  Marian. 
That'8  nothing,  to  be  dark  as  you  are.    Your  hair  and  eves 


to 


m  ALL  SHADES 


and  complexion  are  just  absolutely  perfect,  darling.  Bat 
Mr.  Noel — well,  he's  a  shade  or  two  too  dark  for  me,  any- 
how ;  and  I  don't  mind  saying  so  to  you  candidly. — Mr. 
Hawthorn's  a  great  deal  more  my  ideal  of  what  a  hand- 
some man  ouglit  to  be.  I  think  his  eyes,  his  hair,  and  his 
moustache  are  just  simply  lovely,  Marian.' 

•Why,  of  course,  you  and  he  ought  to  be  friends,' 
Marian  said,  a  natural  thought  flashing  suddenly  across 
her.  •  He  comes  from  Trinidad,  just  the  same  as  you  do. 
How  funny  that  the  two  people  I've  liked  best  in  all  the 
world  should  both  come  fi'om  the  very  same  little  bit  of  an 
island.     I  dare  say  you  used  to  know  some  of  his  people.* 

•  That's  the  very  funniest  part  of  it  all,  Marian.  I 
can't  recollect  anything  at  all  about  his  family  ;  I  don't 
even  remember  ever  to  have  heard  of  them  from  any  Trini- 
dad people.' 

Marian  looked  up  quicldy  from  the  needlework  on 
which  she  was  employed,  and  said  simply :  *  I  dare  say 
they  didn't  happen  to  know  your  family.' 

•  Well,  that's  just  what's  odd  about  it,  dear,'  Nora 
continued,  pulling  out  her  crochet.  *  Everybody  in  Trini- 
dad knows  my  family.  And  Mr.  Hawthorn's  father's  in 
the  Legislative  Council,  too,  just  like  papa  ;  and  he  him- 
self has  been  to  Cambridge,  you  know,  and  is  a  barrister, 
and  knows  Arabic,  and  is  so  awfully  clever,  that  amusing 
Mr.  Noel  tolls  me.  I  can't  imagine  how  on  earth  it  is  I've 
never  even  heard  of  him  before.' 

•  Well,  at  any  rate,  I'm  so  awfully  glad  you  really  Hke 
him,  now  that  you've  actually  seen  him,  Nora.  One's 
always  so  afraid  that  all  one's  friends  won't  like  one's 
future  husband.' 

•  Like  him,  dear ;  how  on  earth  could  one  help  liking 
him  ?  Why,  I  think  he's  simply  delightful.  And  that's 
so  surprising,  too,  because  generally,  you  know,  one's 
friends  will  go  and  marry  such  regular  horrid  sticks  of 
men,  without  consulting  one.  I  think  he's  the  nicest  man 
I've  ever  met  anywhere,  almost.* 

•  And  the  exception  is ?  * 

•  Put  in  for  propriety's  sake,  dear,  for  fear  you  should 
think  I  was  quite  too  enthusiastic.  And  do  you  know,  he 
tells  me  he's  going  in  for  a  judgeship  in  Trinidad ;  and 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


Bat 
I,  any- 
— Mr. 
hand- 
nd  his 

lends,' 
across 
rou  do. 
all  the 
t  of  an 
ople.* 
ian.  I 
I  don't 
r  Trmi- 

ork  on 

[are  say 

,*  Nora 
a  Trhii- 
lier's  in 
he  him- 
irrister, 
imusing 
t  is  I've 

ally  like 

One's 

:e  one's 

p  liking 
d  that's 
7,  one's 
ticks  of 
est  man 


a  should 
aiow,  he 
Bid;  and 


won't  it  be  splendid,  Marian,  if  he  happens  to  get  it,  and 
you  both  go  out  there  with  me,  darhng  ?  I  shall  be  just 
too  dehghtcd.     Won't  you,  my  dearie  ?  ' 

Marian  gave  a  httle  sigh.  ♦  I  shall  be  very  glad  if  he 
gets  it  in  one  way,'  she  said,  '  because  then,  of  course, 
Edward  and  I  will  be  able  to  marry  immediately;  and 
papa's  so  very  much  opposed  to  a  long  engagement.' 

'  Besides  which,'  Nora  put  in  frankly,  '  you'd  naturally 
like  yourself,  too,  to  get  married  as  soon  as  possible.* 

*  But  then,  on  the  other  hand,'  Marian  went  on,  smil- 
ing quietly,  '  it  would  be  a  dreadful  thing  going  so  far 
away  from  aU  one's  friends  and  relations  and  so  forth. 
Though,  of  course,  with  dear  Edward  to  take  care  of  me,  I 
wouldn't  be  afraid  to  go  anywhere.' 

'  Of  course  not,'  Nora  said  confidently.  *  And  I  shall 
be  there,  too,  Marian ;  and  we  shall  have  such  lovely  times 
together.  People  have  no  end  of  i\\a  in  the  West  Indies, 
you  know.  Everybody  says  it's  the  most  deUghtful  place 
in  the  world  in  the  cool  season.  All  the  floors  are  always 
kept  polished  all  the  year  round,  without  any  carpets,  just 
like  the  continent,  and  so  you  can  have  a  dance  at  any 
moment,  whenever  people  enough  happen  to  drop  in 
together  accidentally  of  an  evening.  Mamma  used  to  say 
there  was  no  end  of  gaiety ;  and  that  she  never  could 
endure  the  stiflness  and  unsociability  of  English  society, 
after  the  hospitable  habits  of  dear  old  Trinidad.' 

'  I  hope  we  shall  like  it,'  Marian  said,  *  if  Edward  really 
succeeds  in  getting  this  appointment.  It'll  be  a  great 
alleviation  to  the  pain  of  parting,  certainly,  if  you're  going 
to  be  there  too,  Nora.' 

•  Oh,  my  dear,  you  must  get  married  at  once,  then,  you 
know,  and  we  must  arrange  somehow  to  go  out  to  Trinidad 
together  in  the  same  steamer.  It'll  be  just  too  lovely.  I 
mean  to  have  no  end  of  fmi  going  out.  And  when  you  get 
there,  of  course  papa'll  be  able  to  introduce  you  and  Mr. 
Hawthorn  to  all  the  society  in  the  whole  island.  I  call  it 
just  delightful.' 

At  that  moment  the  servant  entered  and  announced 
Mr.  Hawthorn. 

Marian  rose  from  her  seat  and  went  forward  to  meet 
him.    Edward  had  a  long  uilicial  envelope  in  his  hands. 


29 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


with  a  large  broken  eeal  in  red  sealing-wax  on  the  back, 
and  the  important  words,  *  On  Her  Majesty's  Service,* 
printed  in  very  big  letters  at  the  lower  left-hand  comer, 
^•f^arian  trembled  a  little  with  excitement,  not  unmixed  with 
fear,  as  soon  as  she  saw  Tt. 

*  Well,  dearest,'  Edward  cried  joyously,  taking  her  hand 
and  kissing  her  once  tenderly,  in  spite  of  Nora's  presence, 
'  it's  all  right ;  I've  got  the  judgeship.  And  now,  Marian, 
we  shall  be  able,  you  see,  to  get  married  immediately.' 

A  woman  always  succeeds  in  doing  the  most  incompre- 
hensible and  unexpected  thing  under  all  circumstances ; 
and  Marian,  hearing  now  for  the  first  time  that  their  hearts* 
desire  was  at  last  in  a  fair  way  to  be  accomplished,  did  not 
clap  her  hands  or  smile  with  joy,  as  Edward  might  have 
imagined  she  would  do,  but  fell  back  upon  the  sofa,  hail 
faint,  and  burst  out  suddenly  crying. 

Edward  looked  at  her  tenderly  with  a  mingled  look  of 
surprise  and  sorro  v.  •  Why,  Marian,  darling  Marian,'  ho 
said,  a  little  reproachfully,  *  I  thought  you  would  be  so 
delighted  and  rejoiced  to  hear  the  news,  that  I  almost  ran 
the  whole  way  to  tell  you.' 

*  So  I  am,  Edward,  ever  so  delighted,*  Marian  answered 
sobbing ;  '  but  it's  so  sudden,  so  very  sudden.' 

*  She'll  be  all  right  in  a  minute  or  two,  Mr.  Hawthorn,* 
Nora  said,  looking  up  at  him  with  an  arch  smile  as  she  held 
Marian's  hand  in  hers  and  bent  over  her  to  kiss  her  fore- 
head. *  She's  only  taken  abaclc  a  little  at  the  suddenness 
of  the  sui'prise. — It's  so  nice,  darling,  isn't  it  really  ?  And 
now,  Marian,  we  shall  all  be  able  actually  to  go  out  to 
Trinidad  together  in  the  same  steamer.* 

Edward's  heart  smote  him  rather  at  the  strange  way 
Marian  had  received  the  news  tiiat  so  greatly  dehghted 
him.  It  was  very  natural,  after  all,  no  doubt.  Every  girl 
feels  the  wrench  of  having  to  leave  her  father's  house  and 
her  mother  and  her  familiar  surroundings.  But  still,  he 
somahow  felt  vaguely  within  himself  that  it  seemed  like  an 
evil  omen  for  their  future  happiness  in  the  Trinidad  judge- 
ship ;  and  it  dashed  his  joy  not  a  little  at  the  moment 
when  his  dearest  hopes  appeared  just  about  to  be  so  happily 
and  SttocesafuUy  reaiisud. 


ty  ALL  SBADSB 


eback, 
ervice,' 
comer. 
Bcl  with 

sr  hand 

L-csence, 
Marian, 

compre- 
itances ; 
f  hearts' 
,  did  not 
jht  have 
;o&,  half 

i  look  of 
krian,'  he 
lid  be  so 
most  ran 

answered 

iiwthorn,* 
she  held 
her  fore- 
iddenness 
iy  ?  And 
TO  out  to 

inge  way 
dehghted 
very  girl 
louse  and 
1  still,  he 
ed  like  an 
ad  judge- 
moment 
happily 


CHAPTER   IV. 

It  was  a  brilliant,  cloudless,  tropical  day  at  Agualta  Estate, 
Trinidad ;  and  the  cocoa-nut  pahns  in  front  of  the  pretty, 
picturesque,  low-roofed  bungalow  were  waving  gracefully 
in  the  light  sea-breeze  that  blew  fresh  across  the  open 
cane-pieces  from  the  distant  horizon  of  the  broad  Atlantic. 
Most  days,  indeed,  except  during  the  rainy  season,  were 
brilliant  enough  in  all  conscience  at  beautiful  Agualta :  the 
sun  blazed  all  day  long  in  a  uniform  hazy-white  sky,  not 
blue,  to  be  sure,  as  in  a  northern  climate,  but  bluish  and 
cloudless ;  and  the  sea  shone  below,  hazy- white,  in  the 
dim  background,  beyond  the  waving  palm-trees,  and  the 
broad-leaved  bananas,  and  the  long  stretch  of  bright-green 
cane-pieces  that  sloped  down  in  endless  succession  towards 
the  beach  and  the  breakers.  Agualta  House  itself  was 
perched,  West  India  fashion,  on  the  topmost  summit  of  a 
tall  and  lonely  rocky  peak,  a  projecting  spur  or  shoulder 
from  the  main  mass  of  the  Trinidad  mountains.  They 
chose  the  very  highest  and  most  beautiful  situations  they 
could  find  for  their  houses,  those  old  matter-of-fact  West 
Indian  planters,  not  so  much  out  of  a  taste  for  scenery — 
for  their  mental  horizon  was  foi  the  most  part  bounded  by 
rum  and  sugar — but  because  a  hill-top  was  coolest  and 
breeziest,  and  coolness  is  the  one  great  practical  desidera- 
tum in  a  West  Indian  residence.  Still,  the  houses  that 
they  built  on  these  airy  heights  incidentally  enjoyed  the 
most  exquisite  prospects ;  and  Agualta  itself  was  no  excep- 
tion to  the  general  rule  in  this  matter.  From  the  front 
piazza  you  looked  down  upon  a  green  ravine,  crowded  witii 
tree-ferns  and  other  graceful  tropical  ve,«,nMation  ;  on  either 
side,  rocky  peaks  broke  tlie  middle  distance  with  their 
jagged  tors  and  precipitous  needles ;  while  far  away  beyond 
the  cane-grown  plain  that  nestled  snugly  in  the  hollow 
below,  the  sky-line  of  the  Atlantic  bounded  the  view,  with 
a  dozen  sun-smit  rocky  islets  basking  like  great  floating 
wLiiles  upon  the  grey  horizon.  No  lovelier  view  in  the 
whole  of  luxuriant  beautiful  Trinidad  than  that  from  th« 


r,\ 


I 


I 


I 


14 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


crefiper-covered  front  piazza  of  the  ^v]lite  bungalow  of  old 
Agualta. 

Through  the  midst  of  the  ravine,  the  little  river  from 
which  the  estate  took  its  Spanish  name — curiously  cor- 
rupted upon  negro  lips  into  the  form  of  Wagwater — 
tumbled  in  white  sheets  of  dashing  foam  between  the  green 
foliage  '  in  cataract  after  cataract  to  the  sea.'  Here  and 
there,  the  overarching  clumps  of  feathery  bamboo  hid  it3 
course  for  a  hundred  yards  or  so,  as  seen  from  the  piazza ; 
but  every  now  and  again  it  gleamed  forth,  white  and  con- 
spicuous once  more,  as  it  tumbled  headlong  down  its  steep 
course  over  some  rocky  barrier.  You  could  trace  it 
throughout  like  a  long  line  of  Hght  among  all  the  tangled, 
glossy,  dark-green  foliage  of  that  wild  and  overgrown 
tropical  gully. 

The  Honourable  James  Hawthorn,  owner  of  Agualta, 
was  sitting  out  in  a  cane  arm-chair,  under  the  broad 
shadow  of  the  great  mango-tree  on  the  grassy  terrace  in 
front  of  the  piazza.  A  venerable  grey-haired,  grey-bearded 
man,  with  a  calm,  clear-cut,  resolute  face,  the  very  counter- 
part of  his  son  Edward's,  only  grown  some  thirty  years 
older,  and  sterner  too,  and  more  unbending. 

•  Mr.  Dupuy's  coming  round  this  morning,  Mary,'  Mr. 
Hawthorn  said  to  the  placid,  gentle  old  lady  in  the  com- 
panion-chair beside  him.  •  He  wants  to  look  at  some  oxen 
I'm  going  to  get  rid  of,  and  he  thinks,  perhaps,  he'd  hko 
to  buy  them.' 

*  Mr.  Dupuy ! '  Mrs.  Hawthorn  answered,  with  a  slight 
shudder  of  displeasure  as  she  spoke.  '  I  rcallv  wish  he 
wasn't  coming.  I  can't  bear  that  man,  somehow.  He 
always  seems  to  me  the  worst  embodiment  of  the  bad  old 
days  that  are  dead  and  gone,  Jamie.' 

The  old  gentleman  hummed  an  air  to  himself  re- 
flectively. '  We  mustn't  be  too  hard  upon  him,  my  dear,' 
he  said  after  a  moment's  pause,  in  a  tone  of  perfect  i-esig- 
nation.  •  They  were  brought  up  in  a  terrible  school,  those 
old-time  slavery  Trinidad  folk,  and  they  can't  help  bearing 
the  impress  of  a  bad  system  upon  them  to  the  very  last 
moment  of  their  existence.  I  think  so  meanly  of  them 
for  their  pride  and  intolerance,  that  I  take  care  not  to 


TN  ALL   SHADES 


25 


imitate  it.  You  remember  what  Shelley  says:  "Let 
scorn  be  not  repaid  with  scorn."  That's  how  I  always  feel, 
Mary,  towards  Mr.  Dupuy  and  all  his  fellows.' 

Mrs.  Hawtliorn  bit  her  lip  as  she  answered  slowly: 

*  All  the  same,  Jamie,  I  wish  he  w^asn't  coming  here  this 
morning  ;  and  this  the  English  mail  day,  too  I  We  shall 
get  our  letter  from  Edward  by-and-by,  you  know,  dear.  I 
liate  to  have  these  people  coming  breaking  in  upon  us  the 
very  day  we  want  to  be  at  home  by  ourselves,  to  have  a 
quiet  hour  alone  with  our  dear  boy  over  in  England.' 

•  Here  they  come,  at  any  rate,  Mary,'  the  old  gentle- 
man said,  pointing  with  his  hand  down  the  steep  ravine  to 
where  a  couple  of  men  on  mountain  ponies  were  slowly 
toiling  up  the  long  zigzag  path  that  chmbed  the  shoulder. 

•  Here  they  come,  Theodore  Dupuy  himself,  and  that  young 
Tom  Dupuy  as  well,  behind  him.  There's  one  comfort,  at 
any  rate,  in  the  position  of  Agualta — you  can  never  possibly 
be  talien  by  surprise ;  you  can  always  see  your  visitors 
coming  half  an  hour  before  they  get  here.  Run  in,  dear, 
and  see  about  having  enough  for  lunch,  will  you,  for  Tom 
Dupuy's  sure  to  stop  until  he's  had  a  glass  of  our  old 
Madeira.* 

'  I  dislike  Tom  Dupuy,  I  think,  even  worse  than  his 
old  uncle,  Jamie,'  the  bland  old  lady  answered  softly  in 
her  pleasant  voice,  exactly  as  if  she  was  saying  that  she 
loved  him  dearly.  '  He's  a  horrid  young  man,  so  selfish 
and  narrow-minded ;  and  I  hope  you  won't  ever  ask  him 
again  to  come  to  Agualta.  I  can  hardly  even  manage  to 
be  decently  pohte  to  him.' 

The  two  strangers  slowly  wound  their  way  up  the  in- 
terminable zigzags  that  led  along  the  steep  shoulders  of  the 
Agualta  peak,  and  emerged  at  last  from  under  the  shadow 
of  the  green  mango  grove  close  beside  the  grassy  terrace 
in  front  of  the  pia/za.  The  elder  of  the  two,  Nora's  father, 
was  a  jovial,  round-faced,  close-sliavon  man,  with  a  copious 
growth  of  flowing  white  hair,  that  fell  in  long  patriarchal 
looks  around  his  heavy  neck  and  shoulders ;  a  full-blooded, 
easy-going,  proud  face  to  look  at,  yet  not  without  a  certain 
touch  of  gentlemanly  culture  and  old-fashioned  courtesy. 
The  youager  man,  Tom  Dupuy,  his  nephew,  looked  exactly 


IN  ILL  SHADES 


what  he  was — a  bom  bcor,  awkward  in  gait  and  lubberly 
in  feature,  with  a  heavy  hanging  lower  jaw,  and  a  pair  of 
Bleepy  boiled  fish  eyes,  that  stared  vacantly  out  in  sheepish 
wonder  upon  q  hopelessly  dull  and  blank  creation. 

Mr.  Hawthorn  moved  courteously  to  the  gate  to  meet 
them.  *  It's  a  long  pull  and  a  steep  pull  up  the  hill,  Mr. 
Dupuy/  he  said  as  he  shook  hands  with  him.  '  Let  me 
take  your  pony  round  to  the  stables. — Here,  Jo  I '  to  a 
negro  boy  who  stood  showing  his  white  teeth  beside  the 
gateway ;  *  put  up  Mr.  Dupuy's  horse,  do  you  hear,  my 
lad,  and  Mr.  Tom's  too,  will  you? — How  are  you,  Mr. 
Tom  ?  So  you've  come  over  with  your  uncle  as  well,  to 
see  this  stock  I  want  to  sell,  have  you  ? ' 

The  elder  Dupuy  bowed  politely  as  ^Ir.  Hawthorn  held 
out  his  hand,  and  took  it  with  something  of  the  dignified 
old  West  Indian  courtesy ;  he  had  been  to  school  at  Win- 
cii ester  forty  years  before,  and  the  remote  result  of  that 
halt-forgotten  old  EngUsh  training  was  still  plainly  visible 
even  now  in  a  certain  cuter  urbanity  and  suavity  of  de- 
meanour. But  young  Tom  held  out  his  hand  awkwardly 
like  a  bom  boor,  and  dropped  it  again  snappishly  as  soon 
as  Mr.  Hawthorn  had  taken  it,  merely  answering,  in  a 
slow,  drawling  West  Indian  voice,  partly  caught  from  his 
own  negro  servants :  *  Yes,  I've  come  over  to  see  the 
stock  ;  we  want  some  oxen.  Cane's  good  this  season ;  we 
shall  have  a  capital  cutting.' 

*  Is  the  English  mail  in  9  *  Mr.  Hawthorn  asked 
anxiously,  as  they  took  their  seats  in  the  piazza  to  rest 
themselves  for  a  while  after  their  ride,  before  proceeding 
to  active  business.  That  one  solitary  fortnightly  channel 
of  communication  with  the  outer  world  assumes  an  im- 
portance in  the  eyes  of  remote  colonists  which  can  hardly 
even  be  comprehended  by  our  bustling,  stay-at-home 
English  people. 

'  It  is,'  Mr.  Dupuy  replied,  taking  the  pro£Fered  glass 
of  Madeira  from  his  host  as  he  answered.  Old-fashioned 
wine-drinking  hospitality  still  prevails  largely  in  the  West 
Indies.  *  I  got  my  letters  just  as  I  was  starting.  Youra 
will  be  here  before  long,  I  don't  doubt,  llv.  Hawthorn.  I 
had  udws»  important  news,  in  my  budget  thig  morning. 


IN  ALL   f^nABES 


n 


My  danghter,  sir,  my  daughter  Nora,  who  has  been  com- 
pleting her  education  in  England,  is  coming  cut  to 
Trinidad  by  the  next  steamer.' 

•  You  must  be  delighted  at  the  prospect  of  seeing  her,' 
Mr.  Hawthorn  answered  with  a  slight  sigh.  '  I  only  wish 
I  were  going  as  soon  to  see  my  dear  boy  Edward.' 

Mr.  Dupuy's  lip  curled  faintly  as  he  replied  in  a  care- 
less manner:  *  Ah, yes,  to  be  sure.  Your  boy's  in  England, 
Mr.  Hawthorn,  isn't  he?  K  I  recollect  right,  you  sent 
him  to  Cambridge. — Ah,  yes,  I  thought  so,  to  Cambridge. 
A  very  excellent  thing  for  you  to  do  with  him.  If  you 
take  my  advice,  my  dear  sir,  you'll  let  him  stop  in  the  old 
country — a  much  better  place  for  him  in  every  way  than 
this  island.' 

*  I  mean  to,*  Mr.  Hawthorn  ans\/ered  in  a  low  voice. 
•  God  forbid  that  I  should  ever  be  a  party  to  bringing  him 
out  here  to  Trinidad.' 

*  Oh,  certainly  not — certainly  not.  I  quite  agree  with 
you.  Far  better  for  him  to  stop  where  he  is,  and  take  his 
chance  of  making  a  living  for  himself  in  England.  Not 
that  he  can  be  at  any  loss  in  that  matter  either.  You  must 
be  in  a  position  to  make  him  very  comfortable  too,  Mr. 
Hawthorn  I  Fine  estate,  Agualta,  and  turns  out  a  capital 
brand  of  •  "im  and  sugar.' 

•  Best  vacuum-pan  and  centrifugal  in  the  whole  island,* 
Tom  Dupuy  put  in  parenthetically.  *  Turned  out  four 
hundred  and  thirty-four  hogsheads  of  sugar  and  three 
hundred  and  ninety  puncheons  of  rum  last  season — largest 
yield  of  any  estate  in  the  "Windward  Islands,  except  Mount 
Arhngton.  You  don't  catch  me  out  of  it  in  any  matter 
trhere  sugar's  in  question,  I  can  tell  you.' 

*But  my  daughter,  Mr.  Hawthorn,'  the  elder  Dupuy 
went  on,  si  uling,  and  sipping  his  Madeira  in  a  leisurely 
fashion — *  my  daughter  means  to  come  out  to  join  me  by 
the  next  steamer ;  and  my  nephew  Tom  and  I  are  natur- 
ally looking  forward  to  her  approaching  arrival  with  the 
greatest  anxiety.  A  young  lady  in  ^liss  Dupuy's  position, 
I  need  hardly  say  to  you,  who  has  been  finishing  her 
education  at  a  good  school  in  England,  comes  out  to 
Trinidhd   under  exceptionally  favourable  ciroamstancea. 


fl8  IN  ALL  SHADES 

She  will  hav«  much  here  to  interest  her  in  society,  and 
we  hope  she  will  enjoy  herself  and  make  herself  happy.' 

•  For  my  part,'  Tom  Dupuy  put  in  brusquely,  '  I  don't 
hold  at  all  with  this  sending  young  women  from  Trinidad 
across  the  water  to  get  educated  in  England — not  a  bit  of 
it.  What's  the  good  of  it  ? — that's  what  I  always  want  to 
know — what's  the  good  of  it?  What  do  they  pic-w  up 
there,  I  should  Uke  to  hear,  except  a  lot  of  trumpeiy 
Radical  fal-lal,  that  turns  their  heads,  and  fills  them  brim- 
ful of  all  sorts  of  romantic  topsy-turvy  notions  ?  I've 
never  been  to  England  myself,  thank  goodness,  and  what's 
more,  I  don't  ever  want  to  go,  that's  certain.  But  I've 
known  lots  of  fellows  that  have  been,  and  have  spent  a 
deuce  of  a  heap  of  money  over  their  education  too,  at  one 
place  or  another — I  don't  even  know  the  names  of  'em — 
and  when  they've  come  back,  so  far  as  I  could  see,  they've 
never  known  a  bit  more  about  rum  or  sugar  than  other 
fellows  that  had  never  set  foot  for  a  single  minute  outside 
the  island — no,  nor  for  that  matter,  not  so  much  either. 
Of  course,  it's  all  very  well  for  a  person  in  your  son's 
position,  Mr.  Hawthorn;  that's  quite  another  matter. 
He's  gone  to  England,  and  he's  going  to  stay  there.  If  I 
were  he,  I  should  do  as  he  does.  But  what  on  earth  can 
be  the  use  of  sending  a  girl  in  my  cousin  Nora's  station  in 
life  over  to  England,  just  on  purpose  to  set  her  against  her 
own  flesh  and  blood  and  her  own  people  ?  Why,  it  really 
passes  my  comprehension.' 

Mr.  Dupuy's  forehead  puckered  slightly  as  Tom  spoke, 
and  the  comers  of  his  mouth  twitched  ominously  ;  but  he 
answered  in  a  tone  of  affected  nonchalance :  •  It's  a  pity, 
"Tr.  Hawthorn,  v'hat  my  nephew  Tom  should  take  this 
nnfavourable  view  of  an  English  education,  because,  you 
Bee,  it's  our  intention,  as  soon  as  my  daughter,  Miss  Dupuy, 
arrives  from  England,  to  an'ange  a  marriage  at  a  very  early 
date  between  himself  and  his  cousin  Nora.  Pimento  Val- 
ley, as  you  know,  is  entailed  in  the  male  hne  to  my  nephew 
Tom ;  and  Orange  Grove  is  in  my  own  disposal,  to  leave, 
of  course,  to  my  only  daughter.  But  Mr.  Tom  Dupuy  and 
I  both  think  it  would  be  a  great  pity  that  the  family  estates 
■hould  be  divided,  and  should  in  part  pass  out  of  the  family; 


IN  ALL  SHADES  flf 

BO  we've  arranged  between  us  that  Mr-  Tom  is  to  marry 
my  daughter  Nora,  and  that  Orange  Grove  and  Pimento 
Valley  are  to  pass  together  to  their  children's  children.' 

•  An  excellent  arrangement,'  Mr.  Hawthorn  put  in,  with 
a  slight  smile.  *  But  suppose — just  for  argument's  sake — 
that  Miss  Eupuy  were  not  to  fall  in  with  it  ? ' 

Mr.  Dupuy's  brow  clouded  over  still  more  evidently. 
•  Not  to  fall  in  with  it !  '  he  cried  excitedly,  tossing  off  the 
remainder  of  his  ^ladeira — *  not  to  fall  in  with  it ! — no*^^  to 
fall  in  with  it !  Why,  Mr.  Hawthorn,  what  the  dickens  do 
you  mean,  sir  ?  Of  course,  if  her  father  bids  her,  she'll 
fall  in  with  it  immediately.  If  she  doesn't — why,  then,  by 
Jove,  sir,  I'll  just  simply  have  to  make  her.  She  shall 
marry  Tom  Dupuy  tlie  minute  I  order  her  to.  She 
should  marry  a  one-eyed  man  with  a  wooden  leg  if  her 
father  commanded  it.  She  shall  do  wliatever  I  tell  her. 
I'll  stand  no  refusing  and  shilly-shallying.  By  George, 
sir,  if  there's  a  vice  that  I  hate  and  detest,  it's  the  vice 
of  obstinacy.  I'll  stand  no  obstinacy,  and  that  I  can  tell 
you.' 

'  No  obstinacy  in  those  about  you,'  Mr.  Hawthorn  put 
in  suggestively. 

•  By  Jove,  sir,  no — not  in  those  about  me.  Other 
people,  of  course,  I  can't  be  answerable  for,  though  I'd 
like  to  flog  every  obstinate  fellow  I  come  across,  just  to 
cure  him  of  his  confounded  temper.  Oh  no ;  I'll  stand 
no  obstinacy.  Why,  sir,  I'll  tell  you  what  I  once  did  with 
a  horse  of  mine  which  had  an  obstinate  temper.  I  put 
him  at  a  cactus  hedge,  over  in  Pimento  Valley,  and  the 
brute  was  afraid  of  the  spines,  and  wouldn't  face  it.  Well, 
I  wasn't  going  to  stand  that,  of  course ;  so  I  dug  the  spur 
into  his  side  and  put  him  at  it  again  ;  and  again  he  refused 
it.  I  tried  a  third  time,  and  a  third  time  the  brute  hesi- 
tated. That  put  my  blood  up,  and  I  dug  the  spurs  in 
again  and  again,  and  rode  him  at  it  full  tilt  till  his  sides 
were  all  raw  and  bleeding.  But  still  the  frightened  brute 
was  too  much  afraid  of  it  ever  to  jump  it.  *'  By  the 
powers,"  said  I,  "  if  I  stop  here  all  day,  my  friend,  I'll 
make  you  jump  it,  or  you'll  never  go  back  again  alive  to 
your  confounded  stable."    Well,  I  put  him  at  it  again  and 


m 

In 


lii. 


so 


IN  ALL  BEADEB 


again  for  more  than  two  hours ;  and  then  I  saw  he'd  made 
up  his  mind  that  he  wouldn't  do  it.  Of  course,  I  wasn't 
going  to  stand  any  such  confounded  obstinacy  as  that ; 
so  I  got  off,  tied  him  deliberately  to  the  bigi,'est  cactus, 
whipped  him  until  he'd  cut  his  legs  all  to  pieces,  dashing 
up  against  it,  and  then  took  out  my  horse -pistol  and  shot 
him  dead  immediately  on  the  spot.  That's  what  I  did 
with  him,  Mr.  Hawthorn.  Oh  no,  sir ;  I  can't  endure 
obstinacy — in  man  or  beast,  I  can't  endure  it.' 

*  So  it  would  seem,'  Mr.  Hawthorn  replied  dryly.  •! 
hope  sincerely.  Miss  Dupuy  will  find  the  choice  you  have 
made  for  her  a  suitable  and  satisfactory  one.' 

*  Suitable,  sir  !  Why,  of  course  it's  suitable  ;  and  as 
to  satisfactory,  well,  if  I  say  she's  got  to  take  him,  she'll 
have  to  be  satisfied  with  him,  willy-nilly.' 

*  But  she  won't ! '  Tom  Dupuy  interrupted  sullenly, 
flicldng  his  boot  with  his  short  riding-whip  in  a  vicious 
fashion.  '  She  won't,  you  may  take  my  word  for  it.  Uncle 
Theodore.  I  can't  imagine  why  it  is ;  but  these  young 
women  who've  been  educated  in  England,  they'll  never  be 
satisfied  with  a  planter  for  a  husband.  They  think  a  gen- 
tleman and  a  son  of  gentlemen  for  fifty  generations  isn't  a 
good  enough  match  for  such  fine  ladies  as  themselves ;  and 
they  go  nmning  off  after  some  of  these  red-coated  military 
fellows  down  in  the  garrison  over  yonder,  many  of  whom, 
to  my  certain  knowledge,  Mr.  Hawthorn,  are  nothing  more 
than  the  sons  of  tailors  across  there  in  England.  I'll  bet 
you  a  sovereign.  Uncle  Theodore,  that  Nora'll  refuse  to  so 
much  as  look  at  the  heir  of  Pimento  Valley,  the  minute 
she  sees  him.' 

*  But  why  do  you  think  so,  Mr.  Tom,'  their  host  put  in, 
•before  the  young  lady  has  even  made  your  acquaintance?' 

*  Ah,  I  know  well  enough,'  Tom  Dupuy  answered,  with 
a  curious  leer  of  unintelligent  cunning.  *  I  know  the  ways 
and  the  habits  of  the  women.  They  go  away  over  there 
to  England;  they  get  themselves  crammed  with  French 
and  German,  and  music  and  drawing,  and  sll  kinds  jf 
unnecessary  accomplishments.  They  pick  up  a  lot  of  non- 
sensical new-fangled  Radical  notions  about  Am  I  not  a 
Man  and  a  Brother  ?  and  all  that  kind  of  Methody  humbug. 


IN  ALL   SHADES 


•1 


They  think  an  awful  lot  cf  themselves  because  they  can 
play  and  sing  and  gabble  Italian.  And  they  despise  na 
West  Indians,  gentlemen  and  planters,  because  we  can't 
parley-voo  all  their  precious  foreign  lingoes,  and  don't 
know  as  much  as  they  do  about  who  composed  Yankee 
Doodle.  I  know  them — I  Imow  them ;  I  know  their  ways 
and  their  manners.  Culture,  they  call  it.  I  call  it  a 
deuced  lot  of  trumpery  nonsense.  Why,  Mr.  Hawthorn, 
I  assure  you  I've  known  some  of  these  fine  new-fangled 
English-taught  young  women  who'd  sooner  talk  to  a 
coloured  doctor,  as  black  as  a  common  nigger  almost,  just 
because  he'd  been  educated  at  Oxford,  or  Edinburgh,  or 
somewhere,  than  to  me  myself,  the  tenth  Dupuy  in  lineal 
succession  at  Pimento  Valley.' 

•Indeed,'  Mr.  Hawthorn  answered  innocently — no  other 
alternative  phrase  committing  him,  as  he  thought,  to  so 
small  an  opinion  on  the  merits  of  the  question. — 'But 
do  you  know,  Mr.  Tom,  I  don't  believe  any  person  of 
the  Dupuy  blood  is  very  likely  to  take  up  with  these 
strange  modem  English  heresies  that  so  much  surprise 
you.' 

•Quite  true,  sir,'  Mr.  Dupuy  the  elder  answered  with 
prompt  self-satisfaction,  mistaking  his  host's  delicate  tone 
of  covert  satire  for  the  voice  of  hearty  concurrence  and 
full  approval.  •  You're  quite  right  there,  Mr.  Hawthorn, 
I'm  certain.  No  born  Dupuy  of  Orange  Grove  would  ever 
be  taken  in  by  any  of  that  silly  clap-trap  humanitarian  rub- 
bish. No  foolish  Exeter  Hall  nonsense  about  the  fighting 
Dupuys,  sir,  I  can  assure  you — root  and  branch,  not  a 
single  ounce  of  it.  It  isn't  in  them,  Mr.  Hawthorn — it 
isn't  in  them.' 

*  So  I  think,*  Mr.  Hawthorn  answered  quietly.  •  I 
quite  agree  with  you— it  isn't  in  them.* 

As  he  spoke,  a  negro  servant,  neatly  dressed  in  a  cool 
white  linen  Uvery,  entered  the  piazza  with  a  small  budget 
of  letters  on  an  old-fashioned  Spanish  silver  salver.  Mr. 
Hawthorn  took  them  up  eigerly.  *  The  Enghsh  mail  I  * 
he  said  with  an  apologetic  glance  towards  his  two  guests. 
'You'll  excuse  my  just  glancing  through  them,  Mr.  Dupuy, 
won't  you  ?    I  can  never  rest,  the  moment  the  mail's  int 


|itWrwm-.'Vi..%-.ii.T|i|Bt.a 


81 


IN  ALL   SHADES 


until  I  know  that  my  clear  boy  in  England  is  still  really 
well  and  happy.' 

Mr.  Dupuy  nodded  assent  with  a  condescending  smile : 
and  the  master  of  Agualta  broke  open  his  son's  envelope 
with  a  little  eager  hasty  flutter.  He  ran  his  eye  hurriedly 
down  the  first  page  ;  and  then,  with  a  sudden  cry,  he  laid 
down  the  letter  rapidly  on  the  table,  and  called  out  aloud : 
'  Mary,  Mary  ! ' 

Mrs.  Hawthorn  came  out  at  once  from  the  little  boudoir 
behind  the  piazza,  whose  cool  Venetian  blinds  gave  directly 
upon  the  part  where  they  were  sitting. 

'  Mary,  Mary  ! '  Mr.  Hawthorn  cried,  utterly  regardless 
of  his  two  visitors'  presence,  '  what  on  earth  do  you  think 
has  happened  ?  Edwiiid  is  coming  out  to  us — coming  out 
immediately.  Oh,  my  poor  boy,  my  poor  boy,  this  is  too 
unexpected!  He's  coming  out  to  us  ut  once,  at  once, 
without  a  single  moment's  warning  !  ' 

Mrp.  Hawthorn  took  up  the  letter  and  read  it  through 
hastily  with  a  woman's  quickness ;  then  she  laid  it  down 
again,  and  looked  blankly  at  her  trembling  husband  in 
evident  distress ;  but  neither  of  them  said  a  single  word  to 
one  another. 

The  elder  Dupuy  was  the  first  to  break  the  ominous 
silence.  •  Not  by  the  next  steamer,  I  suppose  ? '  he  inquired 
curiously. 

Mr.  Hawthorn  nodded  in  reply.  *  Yes,  yes ;  by  the 
next  steamer.' 

As  he  spoke,  Tom  Dupuy  glanced  at  his  uncle  with  a 
meaning  glance,  and  then  went  on  stolidly  as  ever :  *  How 
about  these  cattle,  though,  Mr.  Hawthorn  ?  ' 

The  old  man  looked  back  at  him  half  angrily,  half  con- 
temptuously. *  Go  and  look  at  the  cattle  yourself,  if  you 
like,  Mr.  Tom,'  he  said  haughtily. — '  Here,  Jo,  you  take 
young  Mr.  Dupuy  round  to  see  thone  Cuban  bullocks  in 
the  grass-piece,  will  you  I  I  shall  meet  your  uncle  at  the 
Legislative  Council  on  Thursday,  and  then,  if  he  likes,  he 
can  talk  over  prices  with  me.  I  have  something  else  to  do 
at  present  beside  haggling  and  debating  over  the  sale  of 
buUocks ;  I  must  go  down  to  Port-of- Spain  immediately, 
immediately — this  very  minute.    You  must  please  excuse 


IN  ALL   SHADES 


as 


me,  Mr.  Dupuy,  for  my  business  is  most  important.  Dick, 
Isaac,  Thomas  I — some  one  of  you  there,  get  Pride  of  Bar- 
badoes  saddled  at  once,  very  fast,  will  you,  and  bring  her 
round  here  to  me  at  the  front-door  the  moment  she's  ready.' 

'  And  Tom,'  the  eldor  Dupuy  whispered  to  his  nephew 
confidentially,  as  soon  as  their  host  had  gone  back  into  the 
house  to  prepare  for  his  journey,  *  I  have  business,  too, 
in  Port-of- Spain,  immediately.  You  go  and  look  at  the 
bullocks  if  you  like — that's  your  department.  I  shall  ride 
do^vn  the  hills  at  once,  and  into  town  with  old  Hawthorn.' 

Tom  looked  at  him  with  a  vacant  stare  of  boorish  un- 
intelligence.  •  Why,  what  do  you  want  to  go  running  off 
like  that  for,'  he  asked,  open-mouthed,  •  without  even 
waiting  to  see  the  cattle  ?  What  the  dickens  does  it  matter 
to  you,  I  should  hke  to  know,  whether  old  Hawthorn's 
precious  son  is  coming  to  Trinidad  or  not.  Uncle  Theodore  ? ' 

The  uncle  looked  back  at  him  with  undisguised  con- 
tempt. '  Why,  you  fool,  Tom,'  he  answered  quietly,  •  you 
don't  suppose  I  want  to  let  Nora  come  out  alone  all  the 
way  from  England  to  Trinidad  in  the  very  same  steamer 
with  that  man  Hawthorn's  son  Edward  ?  Impossible, 
impossible ! — Here,  you  nigger  fellow  you,  grinning  over 
there  at  me  like  a  chattering  monkey,  bring  my  mare  out 
of  the  stable  at  once,  sir,  will  you — do  you  hear  me, 
image? — for  I'm  going  to  ride  down  direct  to  Port-of- 
Spain  this  very  minute  along  with  your  master.  Hurry 
up,  there,  jackanapes  t ' 


CHAPTER  V. 

Thb  letter  from  Edward  that  had  so  greatly  perturbed  old 
Mr.  Hawthorn  had  been  written,  of  course,  some  twenty 
days  before  he  received  it,  for  the  mail  takes  about  that 
time,  as  a  rule,  in  going  &om  Southampton  across  the 
Atlantic  to  the  port  of  Trinidad.  Edward  had  already 
told  his  father  of  his  long-standing  engagement  to  Marian  ; 
but  the  announcement  and  acceptance  of  the  district  judge- 
ship iiud  been  mj  hurried,  and  the  date  fixed  for  hia  de- 


tf 


B4 


Ji7  ALL  SnADES 


partiire  was  bo  extremely  ectily,  iLat  he  had  only  jnst  had 
time  by  the  first  mail  to  let  his  father  know  of  his  ap- 
proaching marriage,  and  his  determination  to  proceed  at 
once  to  the  West  Indies  by  the  succeeding  steamer.  Three 
weeks  was  all  the  interval  allowed  him  by  the  inexorable 
red-tape  department  of  the  Colonial  Office  for  completing 
his  hasty  preparations  for  his  marriage,  and  settin^^  sail  to 
undertake  his  newly  acquired  judicial  functions. 

•  Three  weeks,  my  dear,'  Nora  cried  in  despair  to 
Marian  ;  '  why,  you  know,  it  can't  possibly  be  done  !  It's 
simply  impracticable.  Do  those  horrid  government-office 
people  really  imagine  a  girl  can  get  together  a  trousseau, 
and  have  all  the  bridesmaids'  dresses  made,  and  see  about 
the  house  and  the  breakfast,  and  aU  that  sort  of  thing,  and 
get  herself  comfortably  married,  all  within  a  single  fort- 
night ?  They're  just  like  all  men  ;  they  think  you  can  do 
things  in  less  than  no  time.     It's  absolutely  preposterous.' 

•Perhaps,*  Marian  answered,  'the  government-office 
people  would  say  they  engaged  Edward  to  take  a  district 
judgeship,  and  didn't  stipulate  anything  about  his  getting 
married  before  he  went  out  to  Trinidad  to  take  it.' 

*  Oh,  well,  you  know,  if  you  choose  to  look  at  it  in  that 
way,  of  course  one  can't  reasonably  grumble  at  them  for 
their  absurd  hurrying.  But  still,  the  horrid  creatures 
ought  to  have  a  little  consideration  for  a  girl's  convenience. 
Why,  we  shall  have  to  make  up  our  minds  at  once,  without 
the  least  proper  deliberation,  what  the  bridesmaids' 
dresses  are  to  be,  and  begin  having  them  cut  out  and  the 
trimmings  settled  this  very  morning.  A  wedding  at  a 
fortnight's  notice !  I  never  in  my  life  heard  of  such  a 
thing.  I  wonder,  for  my  part,  your  mamma  consents  to 
it. — Well,  well,  I  shall  have  you  to  take  charge  of  me 
going  out,  that's  one  comfort ;  i  nd  I  shall  have  my  brides- 
maid's dress  made  so  that  I  can  wear  it  a  little  altered,  and 
cut  square  in  the  bodice,  when  I  get  to  Trinidad,  for  a  best 
dinner  dress.  But  it's  really  awfully  horrid  having  to 
make  all  one's  preparations  for  the  wedding  and  for  going 
out  in  such  a  terrible  unexpected  hurry.' 

However,  in  spite  of  Nora,  the  preparations  for  the 
wedding  were  duly  made  within  the  appointed  fortoight. 


TN  ALL  SHADE F^  U 

even  that  impoitiMit  item  of  the  bridesmaids*  dresses  being 
quickly  settled  to  everybody's  satisfaction.  Strange  that 
when  two  human  beings  propose  entering  into  a  solemn 
contract  together  for  the  future  governance  of  their  enture 
joint  existence,  the  thoughts  of  one  of  them,  and  that  the 
one  to  whom  the  change  is  most  mfinitely  important, 
should  be  largely  taken  up  for  some  weeks  beforehand  with 
the  particular  clothes  she  is  to  wear  on  the  morning  when 
the  contract  is  publicly  ratifiod !  Fancy  the  ambassador 
who  signs  the  treaty  being  mainly  occupied  for  the  ten  days 
of  the  preliminary  negotiations  with  deciding  what  sort  of 
uniform  and  how  many  orders  he  shall  put  on  upon  the 
eventful  day  of  the  final  signature  I 

At  the  end  of  that  short  hurry-scurrying  fortnight,  the 
wedding  actually  took  place  ;  and  an  advertisement  in  the 
Times  next  morning  duly  announced  among  the  list  of 
marriages,  *  At  Holy  Trinity,  Brompton,  by  the  Venerable 
Archdeacon  Ord,  uncle  of  the  bride,  assisted  by  the  Rev. 
Augustus  Savile,  B.D.,  Edward  Beresford  Hawthorn, 
M.A.,  Barrister-at-law,  of  the  Inner  Temple,  late  Fellow  of 
St.  Catherine's  College,  Cambridge,  and  District  Judge  of 
the  Westmoreland  District,  Trmidad,  to  Marian  Arbuth- 
NOT,  only  daughter  of  General  C.  S.  Ord,  O.I.E.,  formerly 
of  the  H.E.irC.  Bengal  Infantry.'  *  The  bride's  toilet,' 
said  The  Queen,  next  Saturday,  *  consisted  of  white  broch^ 
satin  de  Lyon,  draped  with  deep  lace  flounces,  caught  up 
with  orange  blossoms.  The  veil  was  of  tulle,  secured  to 
the  hair  with  a  pearl  crescent  and  stars.  The  bouquet 
was  composed  of  rare  exotics.'  In  fact,  to  the  coarse  and 
imdiscriminating  male  intelligence,  the  whole  attire,  on 
which  so  much  pains  and  thought  had  been  hurriedly  be- 
stowed, does  not  appear  to  have  differed  in  any  respect 
whatsoever  from  that  of  all  the  other  brides  one  has  ever 
loolicd  at  during  the  entire  course  of  a  reasonably  long  and 
varied  lifetime. 

After  the  wedding,  however,  Marian  and  Edward  could 
only  afford  a  single  week  by  way  of  a  honeymoon,  in  that 
most  overrun  by  brides  and  bridegrooms  of  all  Enghsh  dis- 
tricts, the  Isle  of  Wight,  as  being  nearest  within  call  of 
Southampton,  whence  they  had  to   start  on  thei"  long 


if 


S6 


IN  ALL   SHADES 


'1  '' 


1    • 


oce&n  voyage.  The  aunt  in  charge  was  to  send  down  Nom 
to  meet  them  at  the  hotel  the  day  before  the  steamer 
sailed;  and  the  General  and  Mrs.  Ord  were  to  see  them  off, 
and  say  a  long  good-bye  to  tliem  on  the  morning  of  sailing. 

Harry  Noel,  too,  who  had  been  bes  -man  at  the 
wedding,  for  some  reason  most  fully  known  to  liimself, 
professed  a  vast  desire  to  '  see  the  last  of  poor  Hawthorn, * 
before  he  left  for  parts  unknown  in  the  Caribbean ;  and 
with  that  intent,  duly  presented  himself  at  a  Southampton 
hotel  on  the  day  before  their  final  departure.  It  was  not 
purely  by  accident,  however,  either  on  his  own  part  or  on 
Marian  Hawthorn's,  that  when  they  took  a  quiet  walk 
that  evening  in  some  fields  behind  the  battery,  he  found 
himself  a  little  in  front  with  Nora  Dupuy,  while  the  newly- 
married  pair,  as  was  only  proper,  brought  up  the  rear  in  a 
conjugal  Ute-d-tete. 

•  Miss  Dupuy,'  Harry  said  suddenly,  as  they  reached 
an  open  space  in  the  fields,  with  a  clear  view  uninterrupted 
before  them,  '  there's  something  i  wish  to  say  to  you  before 
you  leave  for  Trinidad — something  a  httle  premature,  per- 
hapo,  but  under  the  circumstances — as  you're  leaving  so 
soon — I  can't  delay  it.  I've  seen  very  little  of  you,  as  yet, 
Miss  Dupuy,  and  you've  seen  very  little  of  me,  so  I  dare 
say  I  owe  you  some  apology  for  this  strange  precipitancy  ; 

but Well,  you're  going  away  at  once  from  England  ; 

and  I  may  not  see  you  again  for — for  some  months  ;  and  if  I 
allow  you  to  go  without  having  spoken  to  you,  why- 


Nora's  heart  throbbed  violently.  She  didn't  care  very 
much  for  Harry  Noel  at  first  sight,  to  be  sure ;  but  still, 
she  had  never  till  now  had  a  regular  offer  of  marriage  made 
to  her ;  and  every  woman's  heart  beats  naturally — I  be- 
lieve— when  she  finds  herself  within  measurable  distance  of 
her  first  offer.  Besides,  Harry  was  the  heir  to  a  baronetcy, 
and  a  great  catch,  as  most  girls  counted ;  unJ  even  if  you 
don't  want  to  marry  a  baronet,  it's  something  at  least  to 
be  able  to  say  to  yourself  in  future,  '  I  refused  an  ofi'er  to 
be  Lady  Noel.'  Mind  you,  as  \vonien  go,  the  heir  to  an 
old  baronetcy  and  twelve  thousaiul  a  year  is  not  to  be 
despised,  though  you  may  not  care  a  single  pin  about  his 
mere  personal  attractions.    A  great  many  girls  who  'wutild 


I 


IN  ALL   SHADES 


•7 


to  an 
be 
It  his 
]uuld 


refuse  the  man  upon  his  own  merits,  would  v;illingly  say 
*  Yes  •  at  once  to  the  title  and  the  income.  So  Nora 
Dupuy,  who  was,  after  all,  quite  as  human  as  most  other 
girls — if  not  rather  more  bo — merely  held  her  breath  hard, 
and  tried  her  best  to  still  the  boating  of  her  wayward  heart, 
as  she  answered  back  with  childish  mnoccnce:  *  Well,  Mr. 
Noel,  in  that  case,  what  would  happen  ?  ' 

*  In  that  case.  Miss  Dupuy,'  llarry  rephcd,  looking  at 
her  pretty  little  pursed-up  guileless  mouth  with  a  hungry 
desire  to  kiss  it  incontinently  then  and  there — *  why,  in  that 
case,  I'm  afraid  some  other  man — some  handsome  young 
Trinidad  planter  or  other — might  carry  off  the  prize  on  his 
own  account  before  I  had  ventured  to  put  in  my  humble 
claim  for  it. — Miss  Dupuy.  what's  the  use  of  beating  about 
the  bush,  when  I  see  by  your  eyes  you  know  what  1  mean  ? 
From  the  moment  I  first  saw  you,  I  said  to  myself.  '•  She's 
the  one  woman  I  have  ever  seen  whom  I  feel  instinctively 
I  could  worship  for  a  lifetime."  Answer  me  Yes.  I'm  no 
speaker.     But  I  love  you.     Will  you  take  me  ? ' 

Nora  twisted  the  tassei  of  her  parasol  nervously  between 
her  finger  and  thumb  for  a  few  seconds ;  then  she  looked 
back  at  him  full  in  the  face  with  her  pretty  girlish  open 
eyes,  and  answered  with  charming  naivete — just  as  if  he 
had  merely  aslccd  her  wlicther  she  would  take  another  cup 
of  tea :  '  No,  thank  you,  Mr.  Noel ;  I  don't  think  so.* 

Harry  Noel  smiled  with  amusement — in  spite  of  this 
curt  and  simple  rejection — at  the  oddity  of  such  a  reply  to 
such  a  question.  *  Of  course,'  he  said,  glancing  down  at 
her  pretiy  little  feet  to  hide  his  confusion,  *  I  dichi't  expect 
you  to  answer  me  Yes  at  once  on  so  very  short  an  acquaint- 
ance as  ours  lias  been.  I  acknowledge  it's  dreadfully  pre- 
sumptuous in  me  to  have  dared  to  put  you  a  (question  like 
that,  when  I  know  you  can  have  seen  so  very  little  in  me  to 
make  me  worth  the  honour  you'd  be  bestowing  upon  me.' 

*  Quite  BO,'  Nora  murmured  mischievously,  in  a  paren 
thetical  undertone.     It  wasn't  kind  ;  I  dare  say  it  wasn't 
even  lady-like  ;  l)ut  then  you  see  she  was  really,  after  all, 
only  a  school-girl. 

Hnrry  paused,  linlf  abashed  for  a  second  at  this  very 
literal  acceptance  of  his  conveutiunal  expression  of  self* 


IN  a:.l  sjjad;:h 


i 


depreciation..  He  hardly  knew  whether  it  \va.s  worth  whil* 
eontinuing  his  suit  in  the  face  of  such  exceedingly  outspoken 
discouragement.  Still,  he  had  something  to  say,  a".d  he 
determined  to  say  it.  He  was  really  very  much  in  love 
with  Nora,  and  he  wasn't  going  to  lose  his  chance  outright 
just  for  the  sake  of  what  might  be  nothing  more  than 
a  pretty  girl's  provoking  coyness. 

'  Yes,'  he  went  on  quietly,  without  seeming  to  notice 
her  little  interruption,  *  though  you  haven't  yet  seen  any- 
thing in  me  to  care  for,  I'm  going  to  ask  you,  not  whether 
you'll  give  me  any  definite  promise — it  was  foolish  of  me 
to  expect  one  on  so  brief  an  acquaintance — but  whether 
you'll  Idndly  bear  in  mind  that  I've  told  you  I  love  you — 
yes,  I  said  love  you  ' — for  Nora  had  dashed  her  little  hand 
aside  impatiently  at  the  word.  *  And  remember,  I  shall 
still  hope,  until  I  see  you  again,  you  may  yet  in  future  re- 
ftousider  the  question.  Don't  make  me  any  promise,  Misa 
Dupuy  ;  and  don't  repeat  the.  answer  you've  already  given 
me ;  but  when  you  go  to  Trinidad,  and  are  admired  and 
courted  as  you  needs  must  be,  don't  wholly  ibij^^et  that 
someone  in  England  once  told  you  he  loved  you — loved  you 
passionately.' 

'  I'm  not  likely  to  forget  it,  Mr.  Noel,'  Nora  answered 
with  malicious  calmness  ;  '  because  nobody  ever  proposed 
to  me  before,  you  know ;  and  one's  sure  not  to  forget  one's 
first  offer.' 

•  Miss  Dupuy,  you  are  making  game  of  mo  !  It  isn't 
right  of  you — it  isn't  generous.' 

Nora  paused  and  looked  at  him  again.  He  was  dark, 
but  very  handsome.  He  loolicd  handsomer  still  when  he 
bridled  up  a  little.  It  was  a  very  nice  thing  to  look  forward 
to  being  Lady  Noel.  How  all  the  other  girlg  at  school 
would  have  just  jumped  at  it  I  But  no  ;  ho  was  too  dark 
by  half  to  meet  her  fancy.  She  couldn't  give  him  the 
slightest  encouragement.  '  Mr.  Noel,'  she  said,  far  more 
seriously  this  time,  with  a  little  sigh  of  impatience,  •  believe 
me,  I  didn't  really  mean  to  oilond  ycu.  1 — 1  like  you  very 
much;  and  I'm  sure  I'm  very  much  flattered  indeed  by 
vhnt  you've  just  been  kind  enouj^h  to  say  to  me.  I  know 
ii's  A  great  honour  for  you  to  a^k  me  to^to  ftsk  me  wbal 


Itl 


m  ALL  SHADES  M 

you  have  asked  me.  But,  you  know,  I  don't  think  of  you 
in  that  light,  exactly.  You  will  understand  what  I  mean 
when  1  say  1  can't  oven  leavo  the  question  open.  I — I  have 
nothing  to  reconsider.' 

Harry  waited  a  moment  in  internal  reflection.  He 
liked  her  all  the  better  because  she  said  No  to  him.  Ho  was 
man  of  the  world  enough  to  know  that  ninety-nine  girls 
out  of  a  bundled  would  havo  jumped  at  once  at  such  an 
eligible  offer.  *  In  a  few  months,'  he  said  quietly,  in  an 
abstracted  fashion,  •  1  shall  bo  paying  a  visit  out  in 
Trinidad.' 

•  Oh,  don't,  pray  don't,'  Nora  cried  hastily.  *  It'll  be  no 
use,  Mr.  Noel,  no  use  in  any  way.  I've  quite  made  up  my 
mind ;  and  I  never  cliange  it.  Don't  come  out  to  Trinidad, 
I  beg  of  you.' 

'  I  see,'  Harry  said,  Ciuiling  a  little  bitterly.  *  Someone 
else  has  been  beforehand  with  me  already.  No  wonder. 
I'm  not  at  all  surprised  at  him.  How  could  ho  possibly 
see  you  and  help  it  ?  '  And  he  looked  with  unmistakable 
admiration  at  Nora's  face,  all  the  prettier  now  for  its  deep 
blushes. 

•  No,  Mr.  Noel,'  Nora  answered  simply.  ♦  There  you 
are  mistaken.  There's  nobody — absolutely  nobody.  I've 
only  just  left  school,  you  know,  and  I've  seen  no  one  bo  far 
that  I  care  for  in  any  way.' 

'  In  that  case,'  Harry  Noel  said,  in  his  decided  manner; 
*  the  quest  will  still  be  worth  pursuing.  No  matter  what 
you  say.  Miss  Dupuy,  we  shall  meet  again  —before  long — 
m  Trinidad.  A  young  lady  who  has  just  left  school  has 
plenty  of  time  still  to  reconsider  her  determinations.' 

'  Mr.  Noel !     Please,  df m't  1     It'll  be  quite  useless.' 

'I  must,  Miss  Dupuy;  I  can't  'lelp  myself.  You  will 
di'^vv  me  after  you,  even  if  I  tried  to  prevent  it.  I  believe 
i  Q  .V8  had  one  real  passion  in  my  life,  and  that  passion 
will  act  upon  me  lilce  a  magnet  on  a  needle  for  ever  after. 
I  shall  go  to  Trinidad.' 

•At  any  rate,  then,  you'll  remember  that  I  gave  you 
no  encourcgement,  and  that  for  me,  at  least,  my  answer 
is  final.' 

•  i  mil  remomber,  Miss  Dupuy— and  I  won't  believe  it.' 


!•  IN  ALL  SHADES 

That  evening,  as  Marian  kissed  Nora  good-night  in  her 
own  bedroom  at  the  Southampton  hotel,  she  asked  archly : 
•  Well,  Nora,  what  did  you  answer  him  ?  * 

•  Answer  who  ?  what  ?  '  Nora  repeated  hastily,  trying 
to  look  as  if  she  didn't  understand  the  suppressed  ante- 
cedent of  the  personal  pronoun. 

•  My  dear  girl,  it  isn't  tlie  least  use  your  pretending  you 
don't  Imow  what  I  mean  by  it.  I  saw  in  your  face,  Nora, 
when  Edward  and  I  caught  you  up,  what  it  was  Mr.  Noel 
had  been  saying  to  you.  And  how  did  you  answer  him  ? 
Tell  me,  Nora  I  • 

•  I  told  him  No,  Marian,  quite  positively.' 

•  Oh,  Nora ! ' 

•  Yes,  1  did.  And  he  said  he'd  follow  me  out  to 
Trinidad ;  and  I  told  him  he  really  needn't  take  the  trouble, 
because  in  any  case  I  could  never  care  for  him.' 

•  0  dear,  I  am  so  sorry.  You  wicked  girl  1  And,  Nora, 
he*s  such  a  nice  fellow  too !  and  so  dreadfully  in  love  with 
you  1     You  ought  to  have  taken  him.' 

•  My  dear  Marian  !  He's  so  awfully  black,  you  know. 
I  really  believe  he  must  positively  be  a  little  coloured.* 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  three  weeks'  difference  in  practical  time  between 
England  and  the  West  Indies,  due  to  the  mail,  made  the 
day  that  Edward  and  Marian  spent  at  Southampton  exactly 
coincide  with  the  one  ,  'ben  Mr.  Dupuy  and  his  nephew 
Tom  went  up  to  view  old  Mr.  Hawthorn's  cattle  at  Agualta 
Estate,  Trinidad.  On  that  very  same  evening,  while 
Nora  and  Harry  were  walking  together  among  tho  fields 
Dehind  the  battery,  Mr.  Tom  Dupuy  was  strolhng  leisurely 
by  himself  in  the  cool  duslc,  four  thousand  miles  away,  on 
one  of  the  innumerable  shady  bridle-paths  that  thread  the 
endless  tangled  hills  above  Pimento  Valley.  Mr.  Tom  was 
smoking  a  very  big  Manila  cheroot,  and  was  accompanied 
upon  his  rounds  by  a  huge  and  fo'ociona-loolnng  Cuban 
bloodhound,  the  hungry  corners  of  whose  great  greedy 


IN  ALL   SHADES 


41 


fllobberlng  mouth  bung  dov.n  hideously  on  either  side  in 
loose  ioids  of  skin  of  the  most  bloodthirsty  and  sinister 
aspect.  As  he  went  along,  Tom  Dupuy  kept  patting 
affectionately  from  time  to  time  his  four-footed  favouiite,  to 
whom,  nevertheless,  every  now  and  again  he  applied,  as  it 
seemed  out  of  pure  wantonness,  the  knotted  lash  of  the 
cruel  dog-whip  which  he  carried  jamitily  in  his  right  hand. 
The  dog,  however,  formidable  as  he  was,  so  far  from  re- 
senting this  unkindly  treatment,  appeared  to  find  in  it 
something  exceedingly  congenial  to  his  own  proper  bar- 
barous nature  ;  for  after  each  such  savage  cut  upon  his 
bare  llanks  from  the  knotted  hide,  he  only  cowered  for  a 
second,  and  then  fawned  the  more  closely  and  slavishly 
than  ever  upon  liis  smiling  master,  looking  up  into  liis  face 
with  a  strange  approving  glance  from  his  dull  eyes,  that 
seemed  to  say  :  '  Exactly  the  sort  of  thing  I  should  do  my- 
self, if  you  wore  the  dog,  and  I  \v  ere  the  whipholder.' 

At  a  bend  of  the  path,  where  the  road  turned  suddenly 
aside  to  cross  the  dry  bed  of  a  \vinter  torrent,  Tom  Dupuy 
came  upon  a  clump  of  tail  cabbage  palms,  hard  by  a  low 
mud-built  negro-hut,  oversliadowed  in  front  by  two  or 
three  huge  flowering  bushes  of  crimson  hibiscus.  A  tall, 
spare,  grey-headed  negro,  in  a  coarse  sack  by  way  of  a 
shirt,  with  his  bare  and  sinewy  arms  thrust  loosely  through 
the  long  slits  which  alone  did  duty  in  the  place  of  sleeve- 
holes,  was  leaning  as  he  pasaod  upon  a  wooden  post.  The 
bloodhound,  breuldng  away  suddenly  from  his  master,  at 
sight  and  smell  of  the  black  skin,  its  natural  prey,  rushed 
ap  fiercely  towards  the  old  labourer,  and  leapt  upon  him 
vfiil:  a  savage  snarl  of  his  big  teeth,  and  an  ominous  glit- 
tering in  his  great  fishy  glazed  eyeball.  But  the  negro, 
stronger  and  mure  muscular  than  he  looked,  instead  of 
flinching,  caught  the  huge  brute  in  his  long  lean  arms,  and 
flung  him  from  him  by  main  force  with  an  angry  oath, 
dashing  his  great  form  heavily  n,'.fainst  the  rough  pathway. 
Quick  as  lightnhig,  the  dog,  leaping  up  again  at  once  with 
diabolical  energy  in  its  big  llai)by  mouth,  was  just  about  to 
spring  once  moie  upon  liis  scowling  opponent,  when  Tom 
Dupuy,  catching  him  angrily  by  his  leather  collar,  threw 
him  down  and  held  him  back,  growling  fiercely,  and  show- 


12 


IN  ALL   SHADES 


ing  his  huge  tearing  teeth  in  a  ferocious  grin,  after  the 
wonted  manner  of  his  deadly  kind.  '  Quiet,  Slot,  quiet  1  * 
the  master  said,  patting  his  liollow  forehead  with  affec- 
tionate admiration.  '  Quiet,  sir ;  down  this  minute  I 
Down,  I  tell  you ! — He's  death  en  niggers,  Delgado — death 
on  niggers.  You  should  stand  out  of  the  way,  you  know, 
when  you  see  him  coming.  Of  course  these  dogs  never 
can  abide  the  scent  of  you  black  fellows.  The  hoohay 
d'Afreeh  always  drives  a  bloodhound  frantic' 

The  old  negro  drew  himself  up  haughtily  and  sternly, 
and  stared  back  in  the  insolent  face  of  the  slouching  young 
white  man  with  a  proud  air  of  native  dignity.  '  Buckra 
gentleman  hab  no  right,  den,  to  go  about  wid  dem  dog,'  he 
answered  angrily,  fixing  his  piercing  fiery  eye  on  the  blood- 
hound's face.  *  Dem  dog  always  spring  at  a  black  man 
wherebber  dey  find  him.  If  you  want  to  keep  dem,  you 
should  keep  dem  tied  up  at  de  house,  so  as  to  do  for  watch- 
dog against  tievin'  naygur.  But  you  doan't  got  no  right  to 
bring  dem  about  de  ro-ads,  loose  dat  way,  jumpin'  up  at 
people's  troats,  when  dem  standin'  peaceable  beside  dem 
own  hut  here.' 

Tom  Dupuy  laughed  carelessly.  '  It's  their  nature,  you 
Bee,  Delgado,'  he  answered  with  a  pleasant  smile,  still 
holding  the  dog  and  caressing  it  lovmgly.  *  They  and  their 
fathers  were  trained  long  ago  in  slavery  days  to  hunt  run- 
away niggers  up  in  the  mor*"  tains  and  track  them  to  their 
hiding-places,  and  diag  them  back,  ahve  or  dead,  to  their 
lawful  masters;  and  of  course  that  makes  them  run 
naturally  after  the  smell  of  a  nigger,  as  a  terrier  runs  after 
the  smeU  of  a  rat.  When  the  rat  sees  the  terrier  coming, 
he  scuttles  off  as  hard  as  his  legs  can  carry  him  into  his  hole ; 
and  when  you  see  Slot's  nose  turning  round  the  corner, 
you  ought  to  scuttle  off  into  your  hut  as  quick  as  hght- 
ning,  if  you  want  to  keep  your  black  skin  whole  upon  your 
infernal  body.  Slot  never  can  abide  the  smell  of  a  nigger. 
■ — Can  you,  Slot,  eh,  old  fellow  ? ' 

The  negro  looked  at  him  with  unconcealed  aversion. 
'  I  is  not  a  rat,  Mistah  Dupuy,'  he  said  haughtily.  '  I  is 
gentleman  myself,  same  as  you  is,  sah,  when  I  oome  here 
ov«r  from  Africa.' 


I 


i:;  ALL  SHADES 


a 


Tom  Dupuy  sneered  openly  in  his  very  face,  *  That's 
the  way  with  all  you  Africans,'  ho  answered  with  a  laugh, 
as  he  flipped  the  ash  idly  from  his  big  cheroot.  *  I  never 
knew  an  imported  nigger  yet,  since  I  was  born,  that  wasn't 
a  king  m  his  own  country.  Seems  to  mo  they  must  all  be 
Idngs  over  yonder  in  Congo,  with  never  a  solitary  subject 
to  divide  between  them. — But  I  say,  my  friend,  what's 
going  on  over  this  way  to-night,  that  so  many  niggers  are 
going  up  all  the  time  to  the  Methody  chapel  ?  Are  you 
going  to  preach  'em  a  missionary  sermon  ? ' 

Delgado  glanced  at  him  a  trifle  suspiciously.  *  Dar  is 
a  prayer-meotin',  sah,*  he  said  with  a  cold  look  in  his  angry 
eve,  'up  at  Gilead.  De  breddorin  gwine  to  mo»t  dia 
ebenin'.' 

*  Ho,  ho;  so  that's  it  I  A  prayer-meeting,  is  it?  Well, 
if  I  go  up  there,  will  you  let  me  attend  it  ? ' 

Delgado's  thick  hp  curled  contemptuously,  as  he  an- 
swered with  a  frown :  '  When  cockroach  gib  dance,  him  no 
ax  fowl ! ' 

*  Ah,  I  see.  The  fowl  would  eat  the  cockroaches, 
would  he?  Well,  then,  Louis  Delgado,  I  give  you  fair 
warning ;  if  you  don't  want  a  white  man  to  go  and  look 
on  at  your  confounded  ^lothody  nigger  prayer-meetings, 
depend  upon  it  it's  because  you're  brewing  some  mischief 
or  other  up  there  against  the  constituted  authorities.  I 
shall  tell  my  uncle  to  set  his  police  to  look  well  after  you. 
You're  always  a  bad-blooded,  discontented,  disaffected 
fellow,  and  I  beUeve  now  you're  up  to  some  of  your  African 
devilry  or  other.  No  obcah,  mind  you,  Delgado — no 
obeah  I  Prayer-meetings,  my  good  friend,  as  much  as  you 
like;  but  whatever  you  do,  no  obeah.' 

*  You  tink  I  do  obeah  because  I  doan't  will  let  you  go 
to  prayer-meetin'  1  Dat  just  like  white-man  argument. 
Him  tink  de  L.aygur  can  nebbcr  be  in  de  right.  Old-time 
folk  has  little  proverb:  "Mountain  sheep  always  guilty 
when  jungle  tiger  sit  io  judge  liim." ' 

Tom  Dupuy  laughed  and  nodded.  *  If  the  sheep  in 
Africa  are  black  sheep,*  he  retorted  clumsily,  *  I  dare  say 
they're  a  beastly  lot  of  thieving  trespassers. — Good-night, 
my  *iiend. — Down,  Slot,  down,  good  icUow  ;  down,  down, 


i^ 


44 


IN  ALL   SHADES 


■ 


down,  I  tell  yon  I — Good-iiiglit,  Louis  Delgado,  and  what- 
ever you  do,  no  obeah  I ' 

The  negro  watched  him  slowly  round  the  comer,  with 
a  suspicious  eye  kept  well  fixed  upon  the  reluctant  stealthy 
retreat  of  the  Cuban  bloodhound;  and  as  soon  as  Tom 
had  got  safely  beyond  earshot,  he  sat  down  in  the  soft  dust 
that  formed  the  bare  platform  outside  his  hut.  and  mum- 
bled to  himself,  as  negroes  will  do,  a  loud  dramatic  soli- 
loquy, in  every  deep  and  varying  tone  of  passion  and 
hatred.  '  Ha,  ha,  Mistah  Tom  Dupuy,'  he  began  quietly, 
•  so  you  go  about  always  wid  de  Cuban  bloodhourid,  an' 
you  laugh  to  see  him  spring  at  de  troat  ob  de  black  man ! 
You  tink  dat  frighten  him  from  come  steal  your  cane  an* 
your  mangoes  1  You  tink  de  black  man  afraid  ob  de  dog, 
yarra  1  yarra  !  Ha,  dat  frighten  Trinidad  naygur,  perhaps, 
but  it  doan't  frighten  salt-water  naygur  from  Africa  1  I 
hab  charms,  I  hab  potion,  I  hab  draught  to  quiet  him ! 
I  doan't  afraid  ob  fifty  bloodhound.  But  it  doan't  g'ood 
for  buckra  gentleman  to  walk  about  wid  dog  that  spring  at 
de  black  man.  Black  man  laugh  to-day,  perhaps,  but 
press  him  heart  tight  widin  him.  De  time  come  when 
black  man  will  find  him  heart  break  out,  an'  de  hate  in  it 
flow  over  an*  make  blood  run  like  dry  ribber  in  de  rainy 
season.  Den  him  sweep  away  buckra,  an'  bloodhound,  an' 
all  before  him ;  an'  seize  de  country,  colour  for  colour. 
De  land  is  black,  an'  de  land  for  de  black  man.  When  de 
black  man  burst  him  heart  like  ribber  burst  him  bank  in 
de  rainy  season,  white  man's  house  snap  off  before  him 
like  bamboo  hut  when  de  flood  catch  it ! '  As  he  spoke, 
he  pushed  his  hands  out  expansively  before  him,  and 
gurgled  in  his  throat  with  fierce  inarticulate  African  gut- 
turals, that  seemed  to  recall  in  some  strange  fashion  the 
hollow  eddying  roar  and  gurgle  of  the  mountain  torrents 
in  the  rainy  season. 

•  Chicken  doan't  nebber  lub  jackal,  yarra,'  he  went  on 
after  a  short  pause  of  expectant  triumph;  *an'  naygur 
doan't  nebber  lub  buckra,  dat  certain.  But  ob  all  de 
buckia  in  de  island  ob  Trinidad,  dem  Dupuy  is  de  very 
worst  an'  de  very  contemptfullest.  Some  day,  black  man 
will  rise,  an'  get  rid  ob  dem  all  for  good  an'  ebber.    If  I 


IN  ALL   SHADES 


like,  I  ean  kill  dem  all  to-day ;  but  I  gwine  to  wait.  De 
great  an'  terrible  day  ob  de  Lard  is  not  come  yet.  Missy 
Dnpny  ober  in  England,  where  de  buckra  come  from. 
England  is  de  white  man's  Africa  ;  de  missy  dar  to  learn 
Lim  catechism.  I  wait  till  Missy  Dupuy  come  back  before 
I  kill  de  whole  family.  When  de  great  an'  terrible  day  ob 
de  Lard  arrive,  I  doan't  leave  a  single  Dupuy  a  libbin  soul 
in  de  island  ob  Trinidad.  Utterly  destroy  de  Amalekite, 
sait'  de  Lard,  and  spare  dera  not ;  but  slay  hot'  man  an' 
woman,  infant  an'  suckling,  ox  an'  sheep,  ass  an'  camel. 
When  I  slay  dem,  I  slay  dem  utterly.  De  curse  ob  Saul 
dat  spared  Agag  shall  nebber  fall  upon  Louis  Delgado.  I 
slay  dem  all,  an'  de  missy  wid  them,  yarra,  yarra  ! ' 

The  last  two  almost  inarticulate  words  were  uttered 
with  a  horrible  yeU  of  triumph ;  and  as  Louis  Delgado 
uttered  them  shrilly,  he  drew  the  fingers  of  his  right  hand 
with  a  savage  joy  across  his  bared  and  upturned  neck,  and 
accompanied  that  hideously  significant  action  with  a  hiss- 
ing noise  of  his  breath,  puffed  out  suddenly  with  an  explo- 
sive burst  between  his  white  and  closely-pressed  teeth. 
After  a  minute  he  went  on  again ;  but  this  time  hearing 
footsteps  approaching,  he  broke  out  into  a  loud  and  horrible 
soliloquy  of  exultation  in  his  own  native  African  language. 
It  was  a  deep,  savage-sounding  West  Coast  dialect,  full  of 
harsh  and  barbaric  clicks  or  gutturals ;  for  Louis  Delgado, 
as  Tom  Dupuy  had  rightly  said,  was  '  an  imported  African' 
— a  Coromantyn,  sold  as  a  slave  some  thirty  years  before 
to  a  Cuban  slave  trader  trying  to  break  the  blockade  on 
the  coast,  and  captured  with  all  hex  living  cargo  by  an 
Enghsh  cruiser  off  Sombrero  Island.  The  liberated  slaves 
had  been  landed,  according  to  custom,  at  the  first  British 
port  where  the  cutter  touched ;  and  thus  Louis  Delgado — 
as  he  learned  to  call  himself — a  wild  African  bom,  from 
the  Coromantyn  seaboard,  partially  Anglicised  and  out- 
wardly Christianised,  was  now  a  common  West  Indian 
plantation  hand  on  the  two  estates  of  Orange  Grove  and 
Pimento  Valley.  There  are  dozens  of  such  semi-civilised 
imported  negroes  still  to  be  found  under  similar  oiroom- 
itajices  in  every  one  of  the  West  India  islands. 

As  the  steps  gradually  approached  nearer,  it  became 


46 


jy  ALL  SHADES 


II  i'^ 


i 


plain,  from  the  soft  footfall  in  the  dnat  of  tlio  brifllo-pnth, 
that  it  was  a  shocloss  black  person  who  was  coming 
towards  him.  In  a  minute  more,  the  new-comor  had 
turned  the  corner,  and  displayed  herself  as  a  young  and 
comely  negress— pretty  with  the  roun<l,  good-humoured 
African  prettiness  of  smooth  black  skin,  plump  cheeks, 
dear  eyes,  and  regular,  even  pearl-white  teeth.  The  girl 
was  dressed  in  a  loose  ^[anchestor  cotton  print,  brightly 
coloured,  and  not  unbecoming,  with  a  tidy  rod  bandana 
bound  turban- wise  around  her  shapely  hea<l,  but  barefooted, 
barelegged,  and  bare  of  arm,  neck,  and  shoulder.  Her 
figure  was  good,  as  the  figure  of  most  negrosses  usually  is ; 
and  she  held  herself  erect  and  upright  with  the  peculiar 
lithe  gracefulness  said  to  be  induced  by  the  universal  prac- 
tice of  carrying  pails  of  water  and  other  burdens  on  the 
top  of  the  head,  from  the  very  earliest  days  of  negro  child- 
hood. As  she  approached  Delgado,  she  first  smiled  and 
showed  all  her  pretty  teeth,  as  she  uttered  the  customary 
polite  salutation  of  *  Marnin'  I  sah,  marnin*  I '  and  then 
dropped  a  profound  curtsy  with  an  unmistakable  air  of  awe 
and  reverence. 

Louis  Delgado  affected  not  to  observe  the  girl  for  a 
moment,  and  went  on  jabbering  loudly  and  fiercely  to 
himself  in  his  swift  and  fluent  African  jargon.  But  it  was 
evident  that  his  hearer  was  deeply  impressed  at  once  by  this 
rapt  and  prophetic  inattention  of  the  strange  negro,  who 
spoke  with  tongues  to  vacant  space  in  such  an  awful  and 
mtensely  realistic  fashion.  She  paused  for  a  while  and 
looked  at  him  intently ;  then,  when  he  stopped  for  a  second 
to  take  breath  in  the  midst  of  one  of  his  passionate  inco- 
herent outbursts,  she  came  a  step  nearer  to  him  and 
curtsied  again,  at  the  same  time  that  she  muttered  in  a 
rather  injured  querulous  treble :  •  Mistah  Delgado,  you  no 
hear  me,  sah?  You  no  listen  to  me?  I  tellin'  you 
marnin'.' 

The  old  man  broke  off  suddenly,  as  if  recalled  to  him- 
self and  common  earth  by  some  disenchanting  touch,  and 
answered  dreamily :  •  Marnin',  Missy  Rosina.  Marnin*, 
le-ad^.  Yon  gwine  up  to  Gilead  now  to  de  prayer- 
meetm't 


^ 


IN  ALL   SHADE  a 


4T 


Bosina,  tjlancin;^'  down  at  tlie  IJihlo  and  hymn-book  in 
her  plump  black  hand,  answered  domuroly :  '  Yes,  sah,  I 
gwiiio  dar.' 

Delgadoahookbimsolf  vi^^'oroiiHly,  as  if  in  the  endeavour 
to  recover  from  some  uneiuLlily  trance,  and  went  on  in  bis 
more  natural  manner  :  '  I  ^'wino  up  too  ':o  pray  wid  de 
breddcrin.  You  want  mo  for  somoting'/  You  callin'  to 
me  for  help  you  ? ' 

Rosina  dropped  ber  voice  a  little  as  she  replied  in  her 
shrill  tone :  •  Dem  say  you  is  African,  Mistab  Delgado. 
Naygur  from  Africa  know  plenty  spell  for  bring  back  le-ady's 
lubber.' 

Delgado  nodded.  *  Dem  say  true,'  be  answered. 
•  Creole '  naygur  doan't  can  make  spell  same  as  African. 
Coromantyn  naygur  liab  plenty  oracle,  like  de  ephod  ob  de 
high-pries'  dat  de  word  ob  do  Lard  command  to  Aaron. 
De  onudes  ob  Aaron  descend  in  right  lino  to  de  chiefs  ob 
de  Coromantyn.  Kwdmina  atinilsu  Koromantini  marrah 
osraraan  etchwi  ntwa.' 

The  words  themselves  were  simple  enough,  being 
merely  Fantee  for,  '  Here  am  I,  Kwarnina  the  Coromantyn, 
with  my  thunder- stones  that  cool  the  heart ; '  but  they 
struck  the  Creole-born  nogress  with  a  certain  mute  awe 
and  terror,  after  wliich  she  hardly  dared  for  a  moment  to 
open  her  mouth.  As  soon  as  she  found  her  tongue  again, 
she  muttered  softly  :  *  Dem  say  you  is  great  chief  in  your 
own  comitry.' 

The  old  man  drew  himscdf  up  with  a  haughty  air.  *  Me 
fader,'  he  answered  with  evi.lcut  pride,  '  hab  twelve  wives, 
all  princess,  an'  I  is  de  eldest  son  ob  de  eldest.  Kmg  Blay 
fight  him,  an'  take  me  prisoner,  an'  sell  me  slabe,  an'  dat 
is  how  I  come  to  work  now  ober  hero  on  Mistab  Dupuy 
plantation.  But  by  birt',  I  is  prince,  an'  descendant  ob 
Eleazar,  de  son  ob  Aaron,  do  high-pries'  ob  Israel.' 

After  a  pause,  he  asked  quickly  :  *  Who  dis  lubber  dat 
you  want  spell  for  ? ' 

'  The  word  Creole  is  much  misunderstood  by  most  English  people. 
In  its  universal  West  Indian  sense  it  is  applied  to  any  person,  white, 
black,  or  mulatto,  born  in  the  West  ludics,  aa  opx^uaed  to  outsiders, 
European,  Amerioan,  or  Africsa. 


IN  ALL  SHADE 8 


i  'I 


*  Isaac  PourtalSs.' 

•  PourtalSs  I  Him  mulatto !  What  for  pretty  naygur 
girl  like  you  want  to  go  an'  lub  mulatto  ?  Mulatto  bad 
man.  Old-time  folk  sav,  mulatto  always  hate  him  fader 
an'  despise  him  mudder.  Him  fader  de  white  man,  an' 
mulatto  hate  white ;  him  mudder  de  black  girl,  an'  mulatto 
despise  black.' 

Kosina  hung  her  head  down  slightly  on  one  side,  and 
put  the  little  finger  of  her  left  hand  with  artless  coyness 
mto  the  comer  of  her  mouth.  '  I  doan't  know,  sah,'  she 
said  sheepishly  after  a  short  pause ;  *  but  I  feel  somehow 
as  if  I  lub  Isaac  Pourtal^s.' 

Delgado  grinned  a  sinister  grin.  '  Very  well.  Missy 
Rosy,'  he  said  shortly,  *!  gain  him  lub  for  you.  Wait  here 
one,  two,  tree  minute,  le-ady,  while  I  run  in  find  me 
Bible.' 

In  a  few  seconds  he  came  out  again,  dressed  in  his 
black  coat  for  meeting,  with  a  Bible  and  hymn-book  in  one 
hand,  and  a  curious  volume  in  the  other,  written  in  strange, 
twisted,  twirligig  characters,  such  as  Eosiiia  had  never 
before  in  her  life  set  eyes  or  '  See  here  ! '  lie  cried,  open- 
ing it  wide  before  her ;  '  dat  is  book  ob  spells.  Dat  is 
African  spell  for  gain  lubber.  I  explain  him  to  you ' — 
and  his  hand  turned  rapidly  over  several  of  the  brown  and 
well-thumbed  pages:  'Isaac  Pourtales,  mulatto;  Rosina 
Fleming,  black  le-ady ;  dat  is  de  page.  Hear  what  de  spell 
say.*  And  he  ran  his  finger  Hne  by  line  along  the  strange 
characters,  as  if  translating  them  into  his  own  negro 
EngHsh  as  he  went.  '  "  Take  toot'  ob  alligator,"  same  as 
dis  one  * — and  he  produced  a  few  alligatois'  teeth  from  his 
capacious  pocket ;  '  *'  tie  him  up  for  a  week  in  bag  wid 
Savarmah  flower  an'  branch  of  calalue  ;  soak  him  well  in 
shark's  blood  " — I  gib  de  blood  to  you — "  den  write  de 
name,  Isaac  Pourtales,  in  big  letter  on  sHp  ob  white  paper ; 
drop  it  in  de  bag ;  an'  burn  it  all  togedder  on  a  Friday 
ebenin',  when  it  doan't  no  moon,  wid  fire  ob  manchineel 
wood."  Dat  will  gain  de  lub  of  your  lubber,  as  sure  as  de 
gospel.' 

The  gurl  listened  carefully  to  the  directions,  and  made 
Delgado  repeat  them  three  times  over  to  her.    When  she 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


r 


had  learned  them  thoroughly,  she  said  once  more :  '  How 
much  I  got  to  pay  you  for  dis,  eh,  sah  ? ' 

•Nuffin/ 

•Nuffin?" 

'No,  nufBn.  But  you  must  do  me  favour.  Yon  is 
house  serbant  at  Orange  Grove ;  you  must  come  see  me 
now  an'  den,  an'  tell  me  what  go  on  ober  in  de  house  dar.' 

•  What  far,  sah  ?  * 

*  Doan't  you  ax  what  far ;  but  hsten  to  me,  le-ady.  De 
great  an'  terrible  day  ob  de  Lard  will  come  before  long, 
when  de  wicked  will  be  cut  o£f  from  de  face  ob  de  eart', 
an'  we  shall  see  de  end  ob  de  evil-doer.  Yon  read  de 
Prophets?' 

•  I  read  dem  some  time.' 

'  You  read  de  Prophet  Jeremiah,  what  him  say  ?  Hear 
de  tex'.  I  read  him  to  you.  "  Dehber  up  deir  children  to 
de  famine,  an'  pour  out  deir  blood  by  de  sword."  Dat  de 
Lard's  word  for  all  de  Dupuys  ;  an'  when  de  missy  come 
from  England,  de  word  ob  de  prophecy  comin'  true.' 

The  girl  shuddered,  and  opened  wid  her  big  eyes  with 
their  great  ring  of  white  setting.  *  liow  you  know  it  de 
Dupuys  ? '  she  asked  hesitating.  '  How  you  know  it  dem 
de  prophet  'ludin'  to  ?  ' 

'  How  I  know,  Bosina  Fleming  ?  How  I  know  it  ? 
Because  I  can  expound  an'  interpret  de  Scripture ;  for 
when  de  understandin'  ob  de  man  is  enhghtened,  de  mout' 
speaketh  forth  wonderful  tings.  Listen  here ;  I  tellin'  you 
de  trut*.  Before  de  missy  lib  a  year  in  Trinidad,  de  Lard 
will  sweep  away  de  whole  house  ob  do  Dupuys  out  ob  de 
land  for  ebber  an'  ebber.' 

'  But  not  de  missy  ? '  Boaina  cried  eagerly. 

*  Ah,  de  missy  I  Yon  tink  when  de  black  man  rise  like 
tiger  in  him  wrath,  him  spare  de  missy  I  No,  me  fren'. 
Him  doan't  gwine  to  spare  her.  Old-time  folk  has  pro- 
verb :  "  Hungry  jigger  no  respeck  de  white  foot  ob  buckra 
le-ady."  De  Dupuys  is  great  people  now  ;  puffed  up  wid 
him  pride ;  look  down  on  de  black  man.  But  dem  will 
drop  dem  bluster  bime-by,  as  soon  as  deir  pride  is  taken 
oat  ob  dem  wid  adversity.  When  trouble  catoh  boll-dog, 
den  monkey  breeches  hab  to  fit  him.' 


f0  IN  ALL  SHADES 

Bosina  tnmed  away  with  a  look  of  terror.  *  You  comin* 
to  prayer-meetin' ? '  rfie  asked  hastily.  *De  bredderin 
will  all  be  waitin'.' 

Delgado,  recalled  once  more  to  his  alternative  character, 
pushed  aw'jiy  the  strange  volume  through  the  door  of  his 
hut,  took  up  his  Bible  and  h^-mn-book  with  the  gravest 
solemnity,  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  and  was  soon 
walking  along  soberly  by  Eosina's  side,  as  respectable  and 
decorous  a  native  Metnodist  class-leader  as  one  could  wish 
to  see  in  tho  whole  green  island  of  Trinidad.  '  I  was  glad 
when  dey  said  unto  me  '  he  murmured  to  himself  audibly, 
with  an  unctuous  smile  upon  his  lank  black  jaws,  "  Let  us 
go  into  de  courts  ob  his  house."  ' 

Those  who  judge  superficially  of  men  and  minds  would 
say  at  once  that  Delgado  was  a  hypocrite.  Those  who 
know  what  rehgion  really  means  to  inferior  races — a  strange 
but  sincere  jumble  of  phrases,  emotions,  superstitions,  and 
melodies,  permeating  and  consecrating  all  their  acts  and 
all  their  passions,  however  evil,  violent,  or  licentious — 
will  recognise  at  once  that  in  his  own  mind  Louis  Delgado 
was  not  conscioufl  to  himf^olf  in  the  faintest  degree  of  any 
hypocrisy,  cralt,  or  even  inconaistenoy. 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

The  morning  vihen  Edward  and  Marian  were  to  start  oik 
their  yoyage  to  Trinidad,  with  Nora  in  their  charge,  was  a 
beautiiuliy  clear,  calm,  and  sunny  one.  The  tiny  steam- 
tender  that  took  them  dovn  Southampton  Water,  from  the 
landing-  stage  to  the  moorings  where  the  big  ocean-going 
Severn  \d,j  at  a.ichor,  ploughed  her  way  merrily  through 
the  blue  rippleuS  that  hardly  broke  the  level  surface. 
Though  it  wa^j  a  day  of  parting,  nobody  was  over-sad. 
General  Ord  h.vd  come  down  with  Marian,  his  face  bronzed 
with  twenty  years  of  Lidia,  but  straight  and  erect  still  like 
a  hop-po^.s  as  he  stood  with  ^lis  tall  thin  figure  lithe  and 
Bteadfftst  on  the  little  quarter-deck.  Mrs.  Ord  was  there 
too,  crying  a  little,  of  course,  as  is  only  decorous  on  such 


nf  ALL  SHADES 


il 


occasions,  yet  not  more  so  than  a  parting  always  demands 
from  the  facile  eyes  of  female  humanity.  Marian  did.^'t 
cry  much  either ;  she  felt  so  safe  in  going  with  Edward, 
and  hoped  to  be  back  so  soon  again  on  a  summer  visit  to 
her  fj,ther  and  mother.  As  for  Nora,  Nora  was  alweys 
bright  as  the  sunshine,  and  could  never  see  anything 
except  the  bright  side  of  tilings.  •  We  shall  take  such  care 
of  dear  Marian  in  Trinidad,  Mrs.  Ord ! '  she  said  gaily. 
*  You'll  see  her  home  again  on  a  visit  in  another  twelve- 
month, with  more  roses  on  her  cheek  than  she's  got  now, 
when  she's  had  a  taste  of  our  dehcious  West  Indian 
moimtain  air.' 

*  And  if  Trinidad  suits  Miss  Ord — Mrs.  Hawthorn,  I 
mean — dear  me,  liow  stupid  of  me  f '  Harry  Noel  put  in 
quietly,  *  half  as  well  as  it  seems  to  have  suited  you,  Miss 
Dupuy,  we  shall  have  no  cause  to  complain  of  Hawthorn 
for  having  taken  her  out  there.* 

•  Oh,  no  fear  of  that,'  Nora  answered,  smiling  one  of 
hor  delicious  childish  smiles.  •  You  don't  know  how  de- 
lightful Trinidad  is,  Mr.  Noel ;  it's  really  one  of  the  most 
charming  places  in  all  Christendom.' 

'On  your  recommendation,  then,'  Harry  answered, 
bowing  slightly  and  looking  at  her  with  eyes  full  of  mean- 
ing, 'I  shall  almost  be  tempted  to  go  out  some  day, 
and  see  for  myself  how  really  dehghtlul  are  these  poccical 
tropics  of  yours.' 

Nora  blushed,  and  her  eyes  fell  slightly.  You  would 
find  them  very  lovely,  no  doubt,  Mr.  Noel,'  she  answered, 
more  demurely  and  in  a  half-timid  fasliion  ;  *  but  I  can't 
recommend  them,  /ou  know,  ^vith  any  confidence,  because 
I  was  such  a  very  little  girl  when  I  first  came  home  to 
England.  You  had  better  not  come  out  to  Trinidad  merely 
on  the  strength  of  my  recommendation.' 

Harry  bowed  his  head  again  gravely.  *  As  you  will,* 
lie  said.  *  Your  word  is  law.  And  yet,  perhaps,  someday, 
I  shouldn't  be  Piuprisod  either  if  Hawthorn  and  Mrs. 
Hawthorn  were  to  find  mo  dropping  in  upon  them  un- 
expectedly for  a  scratch  dinner.  After  all,  it's  a  mere 
nothing  nowadays  to  run  across  the  millpond,  as  th» 
Yankees  call  it.* 


8t 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


They  reached  the  iSevern  about  an  hour  before  the  time 
fixed  for  starting,  and  ert  on  deck  talking  together  with 
that  curious  sense  of  fin*  m^  notliing  to  say  which  always 
oppresses  one  on  the  eve  of  a  long  parting.  It  seems  as 
though  no  subject  of  conversation  sufficiently  important  for 
the  magnitude  of  the  occasion  ever  occurred  to  one :  the 
mere  everyday  trivialities  of  ordinary  talk  sound  out  of 
place  at  such  a  serious  moment.  So,  by  way  of  something 
to  do,  the  party  soon  began  to  institute  a  series  of  observa- 
tions upon  Edward  and  Marian's  fellow-passengers,  as  they 
came  on  board,  one  after  another,  in  successive  batches  on 
the  little  tender. 

*  Just  look  at  that  brown  young  man !  *  Nora  cried,  in 
a  suppressed  w^hisper,  as  a  tall  and  gentlemanly  looldng 
mulatto  walked  up  the  gangway  from  the  puffing  tug.  *  We 
shall  be  positively  overwhelmed  with  coloured  people,  I 
declare !  There  are  three  Hottentot  Venusos  down  in  the 
saloon  already,  bound  lor  Haiti;  and  a  San  Domingo 
general,  as  black  as  your  hau ;  and  a  couple  of  walnut- 
coloured  old  gentlemen  going  to  Dominica.  And  now, 
here's  another  regular  brown  man  coming  on  board  to  us. 
What's  his  name,  I  wonder?  Oh,  there  it  is,  painted  as 
large  as  life  upon  his  portmanteau !  •'  Dr.  Whitaker, 
Trinidad."  Why,  my  dear,  he's  actually  going  the  whole 
way  with  us.  And  a  doctor  too  1  goodness  gracious.  Just 
fancy  being  attended  through  a  fever  by  a  man  of  that 
complexion  I ' 

*  Oh,  hush,  Nora  I  *  Marian  cried,  in  genuine  alarm. 

*  He'll  overhear  you,  and  you'll  hurt  his  feelings.  Besides, 
you  oughtn't  to  talk  so  much  about  other  people,  whether 
they  hear  you  or  whether  they  don't.' 

*  Hurt  his  feehngs,  my  dear  I  Oh  dear  no,  not  a  bit  of 
it.  I  know  them  better  than  you  do.  My  dear  MariaUj 
these  people  haven't  got  any  feehngs;  they've  been  too 
much  accustomed  to  be  laughed  at  from  the  time  they 
were  babies,  ever  to  have  had  the  chance  of  acquiring 
any.* 

'  Then  the  more  shame,'  Edward  interrupted  gravely, 

*  to  those  who  have  laughed  them  out  of  all  self-respect 
and  natural  feeling.    But  I  don't  believe,  for  my  partf 


i 


IN  ALL   SHADES 


•S 


there's  anybody  on  earth  who  doesn't  feel  hnrt  at  being 
ridiculed.' 

•  All,  that's  so  nice  of  you  to  thmk  and  talk  like  that, 
Mr.  Hawthorn,'  Nora  answered  franldy ;  *  but  you  won't 
think  so,  you  Imow,  I'm  quite  certain,  after  you've  been  a 
month  or  two  on  shore  over  in  Trinidad.' 

'  Good-moiniiig,  ladies  and  gentlemen,'  the  captain  of 
the  Severn  put  in  briskly,  walking  up  to  them  as  they 
loimged  in  a  group  on  the  clean-scrubbed  quarter-deck — 
'good-morning,  hidies  and  gentlemen.  Fine  weather  to 
start  on  a  voyage.  Are  you  all  going  with  us? — Why, 
bless  my  heart,  if  this  isn't  General  Ord  I  I  sailed  with 
you,  sir,  fifteen  years  ago  now  or  more,  must  be,  whon  1 
was  a  second  oflieer  in  the  P.  and  0.  service. — You  don't 
remember  me ;  no,  I  dare  say  not;  I  was  only  a  second 
officer  then,  and  you  sat  at  the  captain's  table.  But  I  re- 
member you,  sir — I  remember  you.  There's  more  folks 
know  Tom  Fool,  the  proverb  sayo,  than  Tom  fool  knows  • 
and  no  offence  meant.  General,  nor  none  be  taken.  And 
80  you're  going  out  with  us  now,  are  you  ? — going  out  with 
us  now  ?  Well,  you'll  sit  at  the  captain's  table  still,  sir, 
no  doubt,  you  and  your  party;  and  as  I'm  the  captain 
now,  you  see,  why,  I  shall  have  a  better  chance  than  I 
used  to  have  of  maldngyour  acquaintance.' 

The  captain  laughed  heartily  as  he  spoke  at  his  own 
small  wit ;  but  General  Ord  drew  himself  up  rather  stiffly, 
and  answered  in  a  somewhat  severe  tone :  '  No,  I'm  not 
going  out  with  you  this  journey  myself;  but  my  daughter, 
who  has  lately  married,  and  her  husband  here,  are  just 
setting  out  to  their  new  home  over  in  Trinidad. 

•  In  Trinidad/  the  jolly  captain  echoed  heartily — *  in 
Trinidad  I  Well,  well,  beautilul  island,  beautiful,  beau 
tiful  1  Must  mind  they  don't  take  too  much  mainsheet,  or 
catch  yellow  Jack,  or  live  in  tlie  marshes,  that's  all; 
otherwise,  they'll  find  it  a  delightful  residence.  I  took  out 
a  young  sub-heutenant,  just  gazetted,  last  voyage  but  two, 
when  they  had  the  yellow  Jack  awfully  bad  up  at  canton- 
ments. He  was  in  a  deadly  funk  of  the  fever  all  the  way, 
and  always  asking  everybody  questions  about  it.  The 
moment  he  landed,  who  does  he  go  and  meet  but  An  old 


64 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


I 


Irish  friend  of  the  family,  who  was  going  home  by  the  Fe> 
turn  steamer.  The  Irishman  rushes  up  to  him  and  shakes 
his  hand  violently,  and  says  he — "  Me  dear  fellow,"  says  he, 
"ye'vecome  in  the  very  nick  of  time.  Promotion's  cer- 
tain ;  they're  dying  by  thousands.  Every  day  wan  of  'em 
drops  off  the  list ;  and  all  ye've  got  to  do  is  to  hould  yer 
head  up,  keep  from  drinlcing  any  brandy,  and  don't  be 
frightened ;  and,  by  George,  ye'll  rise  in  no  time  as  fast  as 
I  have  ;  and  I'm  going  home  this  morning  a  colonel."  * 

The  General  shuddered  sHghtly.  *  Not  a  pleasant  in- 
troduction to  the  country  certainly,'  he  answered  in  his 
driest  manner.  '  But  I  suppose  Trinidad's  fairly  healthy 
at  present  ? ' 

*  Healthy  I  Well,  yes,  well  enough  as  the  tropics  go. 
General. — But  don't  you  be  afraid  of  your  young  people. 
"With  health  and  strength  they'll  pull  tli rough  decently, 
not  a  doubt  of  it. — Let  me  see — let  me  see  ;  1  must  secure 
'em  a  place  at  my  own  tnble.  We've  got  rather  an  odd 
lot  of  passengers  this  time,  mostly ;  a  good  many  of  'em 
have  got  a  very  decided  touch  o'  the  tar-brush  about  'em — 
a  touch  o*  the  tar-brush.  There's  that  woolly-headed 
nigger  fellow  over  there  who's  just  come  aboard;  he's 
going  to  Trinidad  too  ;  he's  a  doctor,  he  is.  We  mustn't 
let  your  people  get  mixed  up  with  all  that  lot,  of  course  ; 
I'll  keep  'em  a  place  nice  and  snug  at  my  own  table.' 

*  Thank  you,'  the  General  said,  rather  more  graciously 
than  before. — *  This  is  my  daughter,  Captain,  Mrs.  Haw- 
thorn. And  this  is  my  son-in-law,  Mr.  Edward  Hawthorn, 
who's  going  out  to  accept  a  district  judgeship  over  yonder 
in  Trinidad.' 

*  Ha  I '  the  jovial  captain  answered  in  his  bluff  voice, 
dofBng  his  hat  sailor-fashion  to  Marian  and  Edward. 
•  Going  to  hang  up  the  nigt^jors  out  in  Trinidad,  are  you, 
sir  ?  Going  to  hang  up  the  niggers  I  Well,  well,  they 
deserve  it  all,  every  man  Jack  of  'em,  the  lazy  beggars ; 
they  all  deserve  hanging.  A  pestering  set  of  idle,  thieving, 
hulldng  vagabonds,  iis  ever  came  round  to  coal  a  ship  in 
harbour!  I'd  judge 'em,  I  would- I'd  judge  'em.'  And 
the  captain  pantomimically  expressed  the  exact  nature  of 
big  judicial  sentiments  by  pressing  Lis  own  stout  ball- 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


neck,  jnst  across  the  windpipe,  with  his  stnrdy  right  hand, 
till  his  red  and  sunburnt  face  grew  even  redder  and  redder 
with  the  suggested  suspension. 

Edward  smiled  quietly,  but  answered  nothing. 

*  Well,  sir,'  the  captain  went  on  as  soon  as  he  had  re- 
covered ftilly  from  the  temporary  effects  of  his  self-in- 
flicted  strangulation,  *  and  have  you  ever  been  in  the  West 
Indies  before,  or  is  this  your  jQrst  visit  ? ' 

'  I  was  bom  there,'  Edward  answered.  *I'm  a  Trini- 
dad man  by  birth  ;  but  I've  hved  so  long  in  England,  and 
went  t)iere  so  young,  that  I  don't  really  recollect  very 
much  about  my  native  country.' 

•  Mr.  Hawthorn's  father  you  may  know  by  name,'  the 
General  said,  a  Uttle  assertively.  *  He's  a  son  of  the 
Honourable  James  Hawthorn,  of  Agualta  Estate,  Trinidad.' 

The  captain  drew  back  for  a  moment  with  a  curious 
look,  and  scanned  Edward  closely  from  head  to  foot  with  a 
remarkably  frank  and  maritime  scrutiny ;  then  he  whistled 
low  to  himself  for  a  few  seconds,  and  seemed  to  be  rumi- 
nating inwardly  upon  some  very  amusing  and  unusual 
circumstance.  At  last  he  answered  slowly,  in  a  more 
reserved  and  somewhat  embarrassed  tone :  •  Oh,  yes,  I 
know  Mr.  Hawthorn  of  Agualta — know  him  personally; 
well-known  man,  Mr.  Hawthorn  of  Agualta.  Member  ol 
the  Legislative  Council  of  the  island.  Fine  estate, 
Agualta — very  fine  estate  indeed,  and  has  one  of  the 
largest  out-puts  of  mm  and  sugar  anywhere  in  the  whole 
West  Indies.' 

*  I  told  you  so,'  Harry  Noel  murmured  parenthetically. 
'  The  governor  is  coiny.  They're  all  alike,  the  whole 
breed  of  them.  Socretiveness  largo,  acquisitiveness  enor- 
mous,  benevolence  and  generosity  absolutely  undeveloped. 
When  you  get  to  Trinidad,  my  dear  Teddy,  bleed  him, 
bleed  him  I ' 

•  Well,  well,  Mrs.  Hawthorn,'  the  captain  said  gallantly 
to  Marian,  who  stood  by  ratlior  wondering  what  his  sudden 
change  of  demeanour  could  pospibly  portend,  *  you  shall 
have  a  seat  at  my  table — cor!  ainly,  certainly ;  you  shall 
have  a  seat  at  my  table.  Tlio  Oonoral's  an  old  passenger 
of  mine  on  the  P.  and  0. ;  and  I've  known  Mr.  Hawthorn 


M 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


of  Agnalta  Estate  ever  gince  I  Urst  came  upon  the  West 
India  liners. — And  the  young  lady,  is  she  going  too  ?  ' 
For  Captain  Burford,  like  most  others  of  his  craft,  had  a 
quick  eye  for  pretty  faces,  and  he  had  not  been  long  in 
picking  ont  and  noticing  Nora's. 

*  This  is  Miss  Dupuy,  of  Orange  Grove,'  Marian  said, 
drawing  her  young  companion  a  Httle  forward.  *  Perhapa 
you  know  her  father  too,  as  you've  been  going  bo  long  to 
the  island.' 

*  What !  a  daughter  of  Mr.  Theodore  Dupuy,  of  Orange 
Grove  and  Pimento  Valley,'  the  captain  replied  briskly. 
•Mr.  Theodore  Dupuy's  daughter  1  Lord  bless  my  soul, 
Mr.  Theodore  Dupuy  1  Oh,  yes,  don't  I  just  know  him  I 
Why,  Mr.  Dupuy's  one  of  the  most  respected  and  well- 
known  gentlemen  in  the  whole  island.  Been  settled  at 
Orange  Grove,  the  Dupuys  have,  ever  since  the  old 
Spanish  occupation. — And  so  you're  taking  out  Mr. 
Theodore  Dupuy's  daughter,  are  you,  Mrs.  Hawthorn? 
Well,  well  I  Taking  out  Mr.  Theodore  Dupuy's  daughter. 
That's  a  capital  joke,  that  is. — Oh,  yes,  you  must  all  sit 
at  the  head  of  my  table,  ladies ;  and  I'll  do  everything 
that  lies  in  my  power  to  make  you  comfortable.' 

Meanwhile,  Edward  and  Harry  Noel  had  strolled  off 
for  a  minute  towards  the  opposite  end  of  the  deck,  where 
the  mulatto  gentleman  was  standing  quite  alone,  looking 
down  steadily  into  the  deep-blue  motionless  water.  As 
the  captain  moved  away,  Nora  Dupuy  gave  a  little  start, 
and  caught  Marian  Hawthorn's  arm  excitedly  and  sud- 
denly. *  Look  there ! '  she  cried — *  Oh,  look  there, 
Marian  I  Do  you  see  Mr.  Hawthorn?  Do  you  see  what 
he's  doing  ?  That  brown,  man  over  there,  with  the  name 
on  the  portmanteau,  has  turned  round  and  spoken  to  him, 
and  Mr.  Hawthorn  actually  held  out  his  hand  and  is 
shaking  hands  with  him  I ' 

'  Well,'  Marian  answered  m  some  surprise,  'I see  he  is. 
Why  not  ? ' 

♦Why  not?  My  dear,  how  can  you  ask  me  such  a 
question  I  Why,  of  course,  because  the  man's  a  regular 
mulatto — a  coloured  person  1 ' 

Marian  laughed.    '  Really,  dear,'  she  answered,  mort 


TN  ALL   SHADES 


amiued  than  angry,  *  you  mustn't  be  bo  entirely  filled  up 
with  your  foolish  little  West  Indian  prejudices.  The 
young  man's  a  doctor,  and  no  doubt  a  gentleman  in 
education  and  breeding,  and  I  can't  for  my  part  for  the 
life  of  me  see  why  one  shouldn't  shake  hands  with  him  as 
well  as  with  any  other  respectable  person.' 

'  Oh,  but  Marian,  you  know — a  brown  man  I— his  fis^ther 
and  mother  1 — the  associations — no,  really  1 ' 

Marian  smiled  again.  *  They're  coming  this  way,*  she 
said;  'we  shall  soon  hear  what  they're  talldng  about. 
Perhaps  he  knows  something  about  your  people,  or 
Edward's.' 

Nora  looked  up  quite  defiant.  'About  my  people, 
Marian  I '  she  said  almost  angrily.  '  Why,  what  can  you 
be  thinking  of?  You  don't  suppose,  do  you,  that  my 
people  are  in  the  h.ibit  of  mixing  casually  with  wooUy- 
headed  mulattoes  ? ' 

She  had  hardly  uttered  the  harsh  words,  when  the 
mulatto  gentleman  walked  over  towards  them  side  by  side 
with  Edward  Hawthorn,  and  hfted  his  hat  courteously  to 
Marian. 

'  My  wife,'  Edward  said,  as  Marian  bowed  ehghtly  in 
return :  *  Dr.  Whitaker.' 

'  I  saw  your  husband's  name  upon  his  boxes,  Mrs. 
Hawthorn,'  the  mulatto  gentleman  said  with  a  pleasajit 
smile,  and  in  a  soft,  clear,  cultivated  voice ;  '  and  as  my 
father  has  the  privilege  of  knowing  Mr.  Hawthorn  of 
Agualta,  over  in  Trinidad,  I  took  the  liberty  of  introducing 
myself  at  once  to  him.  I'm  glad  to  hear  that  we're  to  be 
fellow-passengers  together,  and  that  your  husband  has 
really  decided  to  return  at  last  to  his  native  island.' 

•  ThanL  you,'  Marian  answered  simply.  •  We're  all 
looking  forward  much  to  our  life  in  Trinidad.'  Then, 
with  a  little  mischievous  twinkle  in  her  eye,  she  tnmed  to 
Nora.  'This  is  another  of  oar  fellow-passengers.  Dr. 
Whitaker,'  she  said  demure?/— 'my  friend,  Miss  Dupuy, 
whom  I'm  taking  out  under  my  charge — another  Trini- 
dadian :  you  ought  to  know  one  another.  Miss  Dupny'a 
father  lives  at  an  estate  called  Orange  Grove — isn't  it, 
Nora?' 


i 


I 


I 


M 


IN  ALL  BEADEB 


\ 


Tho  malatto  doctor  lifted  his  hat  again,  and  bowed 
with  markcl  politeness  to  the  blushing  white  girl.  For  a 
second,  their  eyes  met.  Dr.  Whitaker's  looked  at  the 
beautiM  half-childish  face  with  unmistakable  instanta- 
neous admiration.  Nora's  flashed  a  Uttle  angrily,  and  her 
nostrils  dilated  with  a  proud  quiver ;  but  she  said  never  a 
word ;  she  merely  gave  a  chilly  bow,  and  didn't  attempt 
even  to  offer  her  pretty  little  gloved  hand  to  the  brown 
stranger. 

'  I  have  heard  of  Miss  Dupuy's  family  by  name,'  the 
mulatto  answered,  speaking  to  Marian,  but  looking  askance 
at  the  same  time  towards  the  petulant  Nora.  *  Mr.  Dupuy 
of  Orange  Grove  is  well  known  throughout  the  island. 
I'm  glad  that  we're  going  to  have  so  much  delightful 
Trinidad  society  on  our  outward  passage.' 

<  Thank  him  for  nothing,'  Nora  murmured  aside  to 
Harry  Noel,  moving  away  as  she  spoke  towards  Mrs.  Ord 
at  the  other  end  of  the  vessel.  '  What  impertinence ! 
Marian  ought  to  have  known  better  than  to  introduce  me 
to  him.' 

'It's  a  pity  you  don't  like  the  coloured  gentleman,' 
Harry  Noel  put  in  provokingly.  •  The  appreciation  is  un- 
fortunately not  mutual,  it  seems.  He  appeared  to  me  to 
be  very  much  struck  with  you  at  first  sight.  Miss  Dupuy, 
to  judge  by  his  manner.' 

Nora  turned  towards  him  with  a  sudden  fierceness  and 
haughtiness  that  fairly  surprised  the  easy-going  young 
barrister.  'Mr.  Noel,'  she  said  in  a  tone  of  angry  but 
suppressed  indignation,  'how  dare  you  speak  to  me  so 
•bout  that  negro  fellow,  sir — how  dare  you  ?  How  dare 
you  mention  him  and  me  in  the  same  breath  together? 
How  dare  you  presume  to  joke  with  me  on  such  a  subject  ? 
Don't  speak  to  me  again,  pray.  You  don't  know  what  we 
West  Indians  are,  or  you'd  never  have  ventured  to  utter 
such  a  speech  as  that  to  any  woman  with  a  single  drop  of 
West  Indian  blood  in  her  whole  body.' 

Harry  bowed  silently  and  bit  his  lip ;  then,  without 
another  word,  he  moved  back  slowly  towards  the  other 
group,  and  allowed  Nora  to  join  Mrs.  Ord  by  the  door  of 
the  companion-ladder. 


Iff  ALL  BTTADEB  IH 

111  twenty  minutea  more,  the  first  wamiag  bell  rang 
for  those  who  ware  going  ashore  to  get  ready  for  their 
departure.  There  was  the  usual  hurried  leave-taking  on 
every  side ;  there  was  the  usual  amount  of  shedding  of 
tears ;  there  was  the  usual  shouting,  and  bawling,  and 
snorting,  and  puffing ;  and  there  was  the  usual  calm  in- 
difference of  the  ship's  officers,  moving  up  and  down 
through  all  the  tearful  valedictory  groups,  as  through  an 
ordinary  incident  of  humanity,  experienced  regularly  every 
six  weeks  of  a  whole  Ufetime.  As  Marian  and  her  mother 
were  taking  their  last  farewells,  Harry  Noel  ventured  once 
more  timidly  to  approach  Nora  Dupuy,  and  address  a  few 
parting  words  to  her  in  a  low  undertone. 

'  I  am  sorry  I  offended  you  unintentionally  just  now, 
Miss  Dupuy,'  he  said  quietly.  *  I  thought  the  best  apology 
I  could  offer  at  the  moment  was  to  say  nothing  just  then 
in  exculpation.  But  I  really  didn't  mean  to  hurt  your 
feelings,  and  I  hope  we  still  part  friends.* 

Nora  held  out  her  small  hand  to  him  a  trifle  reluctantly. 

*  As  you  have  the  grace  to  apologise,'  she  said,  '  I  shall 
overlook  it.  Yes,  we  part  friends,  Mr.  Noel;  I  have  no 
reason  to  part  otherwise.' 

*  Then  there's  no  chance  for  me? '  Harry  asked  in  a  low 
tone,  looking  straight  into  her  eyes  with  a  searching  glance. 

'  No  chance,'  Nora  echoed,  dropping  her  eyes  suddenly, 
but  speaking  very  decidedly.  *  You  must  go  now,  Mr.  Noel ; 
the  second  bell's  ringing.' 

Harry  took  her  hand  once  more,  and  pressed  it  faintly. 

*  Good-bye,  Miss  Dupuy,'  he  said — *  good-bye — for  the 
present.  I  dare  say  we  shall  meet  again  before  long,  some 
day— in  Trinidad.' 

'  Oh  no  I '  Nora  cried  in  a  low  voice,  as  he  turned  to 
leave  her.  *  Don't  do  that,  Mr.  Noel ;  don't  come  out  to 
Trinidad.    I  told  you  it'd  be  quite  useless.' 

Harry  laughed  one  of  his  most  teasing  laughs.  *  My 
father  has  property  in  the  West  Indies,  Miss  Dupuy,'  he 
answered  in  his  usual  voice  of  light  badinage,  paying  her 
out  in  her  own  coin  ;  and  I  shall  probably  come  over  some 
day  to  see  how  the  niggers  are  getting  on  upon  it— that 
was  all  I  meant.     Oood-bve — good-byo  to  you.' 


60 


IN  ALL  8EADE8 


But  his  eyes  belied  what  he  said,  and  Nora  knew  they 
did  as  she  saw  him  look  back  a  last  farewell  from  the  deck 
of  the  retreating  little  tender. 

*  Any  more  for  the  shore — any  more  for  the  shore  ? ' 
cried  the  big  sailor  who  rang  the  bell.  *  No  more. — Then 
shove  off,  cap'n' — to  the  skipper  of  the  tug-boat. 

In  another  minute  the  great  anchor  was  heaved,  and 
the  big  screw  began  to  revolve  slowly  through  the  sluggish 
water.  Next  moment,  the  ship  moved  from  her  moorings 
and  was  fairly  under  weigh.  Just  as  she  moved,  a  bont 
with  a  telegraph -boy  on  board  rowed  up  rapidly  to  her 
side,  and  a  voice  from  the  boat  shouted  aloud  in  a  sailor's 
bass :  *  Severn,  ahoy  I ' 

*  Ahoy  I '  answered  the  ship's  officer. 

*  Passenger  aboard  by  the  name  of  Hawthorn  ?  We've 
got  a  telegram  for  him.' 

Edward  rushed  quickly  to  the  ship's  side,  and  answered 
in  his  loudest  voice :  '  Yes.    Here  I  am.' 

'Passenger  aboard  by  the  name  of  Miss  Dupuy? 
We've  got  a  telegram  for  her.' 

'  This  is  she,'  Edward  answered.  '  How  can  we  get 
them?' 

'  Lower  a  bucket,'  the  ship's  officer  shouted  to  a  sailor. 
— *  You  can  put  'em  in  that,  boy,  can't  you  ? ' 

The  men  in  the  boat  caught  the  bucket,  and  fastened 
in  the  letters  rudely  with  a  stone  taken  from  the  ballast  at 
the  bottom.  The  screw  still  continued  to  revolve  as  the 
sailors  drew  up  the  bucket  hastily.  A  little  water  got  over 
the  side  and  wet  the  telegrams ;  but  they  were  both  still 
perfectly  legible.  Edward  unfolded  his  in  wondering 
silence,  whUe  Marian  looked  tremulously  over  his  right 
shoulder.    It  contained  just  these  few  short  words : 

*From  Hawthorn,  Trinidad,  to  Hawthorn,  R.M.B. 
Severn,  Southampton. — For  God's  sake,  don't  come  out. 
Beasons  by  letter.' 

Marian  gazed  at  it  for  a  moment  in  speechless  surprise ; 
then  she  turned,  pale  and  white,  to  her  husband  beside 
her.  '  Oh,  Edward,'  she  cried,  looking  up  at  him  with  a 
face  of  terror,  *  what  on  earth  can  it  mean  f  What  on 
earth  can  they  wish  us  not  to  come  out  for  2 ' 


IN  ALL   SHADES  tt 

Edward  held  the  telegram  open  before  his  eyes,  gazing 
at  it  blankly  in  inexpresr^ible  astonishment.  *  My  darling,' 
he  said,  *  my  own  darling,  I  haven't  the  remotest  notion. 
I  oan't  imagine  why  on  earth  they  should  ever  wish  to 
keep  ns  away  from  them.' 

At  the  same  moment,  Nora  held  her  own  telegram  out 
to  Marian  with  a  little  laugh  of  surprise  and  amusement. 
Marian  glanced  at  it  and  read  it  hastily.    It  ran  as  follows . 

*  From  DupuY,  Trinidad,  to  Misa  Dupuy,  B.M.S. 
S&vem,  Southampton. — Don't  come  out  till  next  steamer. 
On  no  account  go  on  board  the  Severn,' 


CHAPTER  Vm. 

For  a  few  minutes  they  stood  looking  blankly  at  one 
another  in  mute  astonishment,  turning  over  and  comparing 
^ihe  two  telegrams  together  with  undecided  minds ;  then  at 
last  Nora  broke  the  silence.  '  I  tell  you  what  it  is,*  she 
said,  with  an  air  of  profound  wisdom ;  •  they  must  have 
got  an  epidemic  of  yellow  fever  in  Trinidad — they're  always 
having  it,  you  know,  and  nobody  minds  it,  unless  of  course 
they  die  of  it,  and  even  then  I  dare  say  they  don't  think 
much  about  it.  But  papa  and  Mr.  Hawthorn  must  be 
afraid  that  if  we  come  out  now,  fresh  from  England,  we 
may  all  of  us  get  it.' 

Edward  looked  once  more  at  the  telegrams  very  dubi- 
ously. '  I  don't  think  that'U  do.  Miss  Dupuy,'  he  said,  after 
re-reading  them  with  a  legal  scrutiny.  'Yon  see,  your 
father  says :  "On  no  account  go  on  board  the  Severn.'* 
Evidently,  it's  this  particular  ship  he  has  an  objection  to ; 
and  perhaps  my  father's  objection  may  be  exaotly  the  same. 
It's  very  singular— very  mysterious  I ' 

'  Do  you  think,*  Marian  suggested,  '  there  can  be  any- 
thing wrong  with  the  vessel  or  the  machinery?  You 
know,  they  do  say,  Edward,  that  some  ship-owners  send 
ships  to  sea  that  aren't  at  all  safe  or  seaworthy.  I  read 
iDoli  a  dreadful  article  about  it  a  little  while  ago  in  one  of 


M  TN  ALL  SHADES 

the  papers.    Perhaps  they  think  the  Severn  may  go  to  the 

bottom.' 

'  Or  else  that  there's  dynamite  on  board,*  Nora  pnt  in ; 
'  or  a  clockwork  thing  like  the  one  somebody  was  going  to 
blow  up  that  steamer  with  at  Hamburg,  once,  you  re- 
member !  Oh,  my  dear,  the  bare  idea  of  it  malies  me 
qoite  shudder  I  Fancy  being  blown  out  of  your  berth,  at 
dead  of  night,  into  the  nasty  cold  stormy  water,  and 
haying  a  shark  bite  you  in  two  across  the  waist  before  you 
were  really  well  awake,  and  had  begun  properly  to  realise 
the  situation  I ' 

*  Not  very  likely,  either  of  them,'  Edward  said.  *  This 
18  a  new  ship,  one  of  the  very  best  on  the  line,  and  per- 
fectly safe,  except  of  course  in  a  hurricane,  when  anything 
on  earth  is  liable  to  go  down ;  so  that  can't  possibly  be 
Mr.  Dupuy's  objection  to  the  Severn. — And  as  to  the  clock- 
work, you  know,  Nora,  the  people  who  put  those  things  on 
board  steamers,  if  there  are  any,  don't  telegraph  out  to 
give  warning  beforehand  to  the  friends  of  passengers  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic.  No ;  for  my  part,  I  can't  at 
all  understand  it.  It's  a  perfect  mystery  to  me,  and  I  give 
it  up  entirely.' 

*  Well,  what  do  you  mean  to  do,  dear  ? '  Marian  asked 
anxiously.     '  Go  back  at  once,  or  go  on  in  spite  of  it  ?  ' 

'  I  don't  think  there's  any  choice  left  us  now,  darling. 
The  ship's  fairly  under  weigh,  you  see;  and  nothing  on 
earth  would  induce  them  to  stop  her,  once  she's  started,  till 
we  get  to  Trinidad,  or  at  least  to  St.  Thomas.* 

*  You  don't  mean  to  say,  Mr.  •  lawthom,*  Nora  cried 
piteously,  '  they'll  carry  us  on  now  to  the  end  of  the 
journey,  whether  we  want  to  stop  or  whether  we  don't  ? ' 

*  Yes,  I  do,  Miss  Dupuy.  They  will,  most  certainly.  I 
suspect  they've  got  no  voice  themselves  in  the  matter.  A 
mail-stcamer  is  under  contract  to  sail  from  a  given  port  oo 
a  given  day,  and  not  to  stop  for  anything  on  earth,  except 
fire  or  stress  of  weather,  till  she  lands  the  mails  safely  on 
the  other  side,  according  to  agreement.' 

*  Well,  that's  a  blessing  anyhow  1 '  Nora  said  resignedly ; 
•  because,  if  so,  it  saves  us  the  trouble  of  thinking  any- 
tiiiiig  more  about  the  matter ;  and  papa  can't  be  angry 


IN  ALL  SHADE 8 


•I 


I 
A 


with  me  for  having  sailed,  if  the  captain  refuses  to  send  ni 
back,  now  we've  once  fairly  started.  Indeed,  for  my  part, 
I'm  very  glad  of  it,  to  tell  ycu  tlie  truth,  because  it  would 
have  been  such  a  horrid  nuisance  to  have  to  go  on  shore 
apjain  and  unpack  all  one's  things  just  for  a  fortnight,  after 
all  the  fuss  and  hurry  we've  had  already  about  getting 
them  finished.  What  a  pity  the  bothering  old  telegrams 
came  at  all  to  keep  us  in  suspense  the  whole  way  over  I ' 

'  But  suppose  there  is  some  dynamite  on  board,'  Marian 
suggested  timidly.  *  Don't  you  think,  Edward,  you'd  better 
go  and  ask  the  captain  ? ' 

*  I'U  go  and  ask  the  caplain,  by  all  means,  if  that's  any 
relief  to  you,'  Edward  answered;  *but  I  don't  think  it 
hkely  he  can  throw  any  particular  hght  of  his  own  upon 
the  reason  of  the  telegrams.* 

The  captain,  being  shortly  found  on  the  bridge,  came 
down  at  his  leisure  and  inspected  the  messages  ;  hummed 
and  hawed  a  little  dubiously ;  smiled  to  himself  with  much 
good-humour  ;  said  it  was  a  confoundedly  odd  coincidence; 
and  looked  somehow  as  though  he  saw  the  meaning  of  the 
two  telegrams  at  once,  but  wasn't  anxious  to  impart  his 
knowledge  to  any  inquiring  third  party.  *  Yellow  fever  I ' 
he  said,  shrugging  his  shoulders  sailor-wise,  when  Edward 
mentioned  Nora's  first  suggestion.  *  No,  no ;  don't  you 
believe  it.  'Tain't  yellow  fever.  Why,  nobody  who  hvea 
in  the  West  Indies  ever  thinks  anything  of  that,  bless  you. 
Besides,  you  wouldn't  get  it ;  don't  you  trouble  your  head 
about  it.  You  ain't  the  sort  or  the  build  to  get  it.  Men 
of  your  temperament  never  do  ketch  yellow  fever — it  don't 
affect  'em.   No,  no  ;  it  ain't  that,  you  take  my  word  for  it.* 

Marian  gently  hinted  at  unseaworthiness  ;  but  at  this 
the  good  captain  laughed  her  quite  unceremoniously  in  the 
face.  •  Go  do\vn ! '  he  cried — '  go  do\\Ta,  indeed  1  I'd  like 
to  see  the  hurricane  that'd  send  tlie  Severn  spinning  to  the 
bottom.  No,  no;  we  may  get  hurricanes,  of  course — 
though  this  isn't  the  month  for  them.  The  rhyme  says : 
"  June — too  soon  ;  July — stand  by  ;  Au-gust,  you  must ; 
September— remember  ;  October — all  over."  Still,  in  the 
eonrse  of  nature  we're  hkely  enough  to  have  some  uglT 
weather— a  capful  of  wind  or  so,  I  mean—  iiothing  to  speuE 


in 


l\ 


lA 


'■-. 


•4  IN  ALL  STTADBS 

of,  for  a  8)iip  of  liur  luaim^o.  i3ut  i  11  bet  yon  a  bottle  of 
ohampagiie  the  hurrioane's  not  alive  thot'll  ever  8end  tlie 
Severn  to  the  bottom,  and  I'll  pay  it  you  (if  I  lose)  at  the 
first  port  the  lifoboat  puts  into  after  the  accidoiit.— Dyna- 
mite t  clockwork  I  that's  all  gammon,  my  dear  ma'am, 
that  is  1  The  sliip's  as  good  a  ship  as  ever  sailed  the  iiay 
o'  Biscay,  and  there's  nothing  aboard  hor  more  explosive 
than  the  bottle  of  champagne  I  hope  you'll  drink  'Aiia 
evening  ion  dinner.' 

'  Then  wo  can't  be  put  out  ? '  Nora  asked,  with  her 
most  beseecliing  smile. 

'  My  dear  lady,  not  if  I  knew  you  were  the  Queen  of 
England.  Once  we're  off,  we're  off  in  earnest,  and  nothing 
on  earth  can  ever  stop  us  till  we  get  safe!  v  across  to  8t. 
Thomas-  -the  hand  of  God,  the  perils  of  the  sea,  and 
the  Queen's  enoniies  alone  excepted,'  the  captain  added, 
quoting  with  a  smile  the  stereotyped  formula  of  the  bills 
of  lading. 

*  What  do  you  think  the  telegram  means,  then  ? '  Nora 
asked  agdn,  a  little  relieved  by  this  confident  assurance. 

The  captain  once  more  humniod  and  hawod^  and  bit 
his  nails,  and  looked  very  awkward.  *  Well,'  he  said 
slowly,  after  a  minute's  internal  debate,  •  perhaps— perhaps 
the  niggers  over  yonder  may  bo  getting  troublesome,  you 
know  ;  and  your  family  may  think  it  an  inopportune  tnne 
for  you  or  V.r.  and  Mrs.  Hawthorn  to  visit  the  colony. — 
All  right,  Jonen,  I'm  coming  in  a  minute.— You  must 
excuse  me,  ladies.  In  sight  of  land,  a  cap'u  ought  always 
to  be  at  his  post  on  the  bridge.  See  yon  at  dinner. — Good* 
morning,  good-morning.* 

*  It  seems  to  me,  Edward,'  Marian  said,  as  he  retreated 
opportunely,  '  the  captain  knows  a  good  deal  more  about  it 
than  he  wants  to  tell  us.  He  was  trying  to  hide  some- 
thing from  us ;  I'm  quite  sure  he  v/as.  Aren't  you,  Nora  ? 
I  do  hope  there's  nothing  wrong  with  the  steamer  or  the 
machinery  1 ' 

*  I  didn't  notice  anything  peculiar  about  him  myfielf,' 
Edward  answered,  with  a  little  hesitation.  '  However,  iff 
oertiinly  very  singular.  But  as  we've  got  to  so  on,  w« 
may  as  well  go  on  as  confidently  as  possible,  and  think  ai 


ri! 


IN  ALL  fiHADES 


68 


little  as  we  can  about  it.    The  mystory  will  all  be  cleared 
up  aB  soon  an  we  got  aoro<  4  to  Trinidad.' 

*  If  we  ever  get  there  I '  Norn  said,  half  jesting  and 
half  in  earnest. 

As  she  spoke,  Dr.  Whitakor  the  mulatto  passed  close 
by,  pacing  up  and  down  the  quarter-deck  for  exercise,  to 
get  bis  sea-legs  ;  and  as  he  passed  her,  ho  turned  his  eyes 
once  more  irmtnly  upon  her  with  that  rapid,  timid,  quickly 
shifting  glanco,  tho  exact  opposito  of  a  staro,  which  yet 
spnaks  more  ccsrtainly  than  arytliing  else  can  do  an  in- 
stinctive  admiration.  Nora's  face  flushed  again,  at  least 
as  much  with  annoyance  as  with  self-consciousness.  'That 
horrid  man  !  '  slin  cried  petulantly,  with  a  httle  angry  dash 
of  her  liand,  ahnost  before  he  was  well  out  of  earshot. 
'  How  on  eartli  can  he  have  the  impertinence  to  go  and 
look  at  me  in  tliat  way,  I  wonder  I ' 

•Oh,  don't,  dcarl'  Marian  whispered,  genuinely  alarmed 
lest  the  mulatto  should  overhear  her.  *  You  oughtn't  to 
speak  like  tliat,  you  know.  Of  course  one  feols  at  once  a 
sort  of  natural  shrinking  from  black  people — one  can't 
help  that,  I  know — it  seem  a  to  be  innate  in  one.  But  one 
oughtn't  to  let  them  see  it  themselves,  at  any  rate.  Bespect 
their  feelings,  Nora  ;  do,  dear,  for  my  sake,  I  beg  of  you.' 

•  Oh,  it's  all  very  well  for  you,  Marian,'  Nora  answered, 
quite  aloud,  and  strumming  on  the  deck  with  her  parasol ; 
*  but  for  my  part,  you  know,  if  there's  anything  on  earth 
that  I  can't  endure,  it's  a  brown  man.' 


■■M 


CHAPTER   IX. 

All  the  way  across  to  Bt.  Thomas,  endless  speculations  as 
to  tlie  meaning  of  the  two  mysterious  telegrams  afforded 
the  three  passengers  chieily  v//nc.0i'n(/^  ra  unusual  fund  of 
conversation  and  plot-interfst  for  an  entire  voyage.  Still, 
after  a  while  the  subject  palled  a  httle  ;  and  on  the  second 
evening  out,  in  calm  and  beautiful  summer  twihght  wea- 
ther, they  were  all  sitting  in  tlfir  own  folding  chairs  on 
the  after-deck,  positively  free  froi/j  any  doubts  or  guesses 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


w 


upon  the  important  question,  and  solely  engaged  in  making 
toe  acquaintance  of  their  fellow-passengers.  By-and-by, 
as  the  shades  began  to  closo  in,  there  was  a  little  sound  of 
persuasive  language— as  wlien  one  asks  a  young  lady  to 
sing — at  the  stern  end  of  the  swiftly  moviiig  vessel ;  and 
then,  in  a  few  minutes,  somebody  in  the  dusk  took  a  small 
violin  out  of  a  wooden  case  and  begun  to  play  a  piece  of 
Spohr's.  The  ladies  turned  around  their  chairs  to  face 
the  musician,  and  listened  carelessly  as  he  went  through 
the  preliminary  scraping  and  twanging  whicl)  seems  to  be 
inseparable  from  the  very  nature  of  the  violin  as  an  instru- 
ment. Presently,  having  tightened  the  pegs  to  his  own 
perfect  satisfaction,  the  player  began  to  clraw  his  bow 
rapidly  and  surely  across  the  strings  with  the  unerring 
confidence  of  a  practised  performer.  In  two  minutes  the 
hum  of  conversation  had  ceaned  on  deck,  and  all  tlie  world 
of  the  Severn  was  bending  forward  its  head  eagerly  to  catch 
the  liquid  notos  that  floated  with  such  delicious  clearness 
upon  the  quiet  breathless  ev^  ning  air.  Instinctively  every- 
body recognised  at  once  the  obvious  fact  that  the  man  in 
the  stem  to  whom  they  wer^  all  listening  was  an  accom- 
plished and  admirable  violin-player. 

Just  at  first,  the  thing  tiiat  Marian  and  Nora  noticed 
most  in  the  stranger's  playmg  was  liis  extraordinary  bril- 
liancy and  certainty  of  execution.  He  was  a  perfect  master 
of  the  technique  of  his  instrun^nt,  that  was  evident.  But 
after  a  few  minutes  more,  thej  began  to  perceive  that  he 
was  something  much  more  than  merely  that ;  he  played 
not  only  with  consummate  skill,  but  also  with  infinite 
grace,  insigl.t,  and  tenderness.  As  they  listened,  they 
could  feel  tie  man  outpouring  his  whole  soul  in  the  ex- 
quisite modUi'ations  of  his  passionate  music :  it  was  not 
any  cold,  well  drilled,  mechanical  accuratty  of  touch  alone; 
it  was  the  loving  hand  of  a  born  musician,  wholly  in  har- 
mony with  the  master  he  interpreted,  the  work  he  realised, 
and  the  strings  on  which  ho  gave  it  vocal  utterance.  As 
he  finished  the  piece,  Ed-srard  wliispered  in  a  hushed  voice 
to  Nora:  'He  plays  beau^ -nilly.'  And  Nora  answered  with 
a  sudden  burst  of  woma!ily  enthusiasm:  '  More  than  beau- 
tifully— exquisitely,  divinely.* 


IN  ALL  SHADEB 


67 


•G 

b 


*  You'll  sing  us  something,  won't  you  ? ' — *  Oh,  do  sing 
us  sometliiiig  !  ' — '  Monsieur  will  not  refuse  us  I ' — *  Ah, 
seuor,  it  ia  such  a  great  pleasure.'  So  a  httle  babel  of  two 
or  three  lani,'uage3  urged  at  once  upon  the  unknown  figure 
silhouetted  dark  at  the  stem  of  the  steamer  against  the 
paling  sunset ;  and  after  a  short  pause,  the  unknown  figure 
comphed  graciourily,  bowini?  its  acknowledgments  to  the 
surrounding  company,  and  burst  out  into  a  song  in  a  glori- 
ous rich  tenor  voice,  almost  the  finest  Nora  and  Marian  had 
ever  hstened  to, 

*  English  1 '  Nora  whispered  in  a  soft  tone,  as  the  first 
words  fell  unon  their  ears  distinctly,  uttered  without  any 
mouthing  in  a  plnin  unmistakable  native  tone.  '  I'm  quite 
surpriseil  .it  it  i  made  up  my  mind,  from  the  intense 
sort  of  way  he  pbr  ed  the  violin,  that  he  must  be  a  Spaniard 
or  an  Itahp.n,  or  at  least  a  bouth  American.  English 
people  seldom  play  with  all  that  depth  and  earnestness  and 
fervour.' 

*  Hush,  hush  I  *  Marian  answered  under  her  breath. 
•Don't  talk  while  he's  singing,  please,  Nora — it's  too 
dehcious.' 

They  listened  till  the  song  was  quite  finished,  and  the 
last  echo  of  that  muj^niificunt  voice  had  died  away  upon 
the  surface  of  the  still,  moonlit  waters;  and  then  Nora 
said  eagerly  to  Edward :  '  Uh,  do  find  out  who  he  is,  Mr. 
Hawthorn  I  Do  go  and  got  to  know  him  I  I  want  to  be 
introduced  to  him  1  What  u  glorious  singer  I  and  what  a 
splendid  violinist  I  I  never  in  my  hfe  heard  anything 
lovelier,  even  a'  Oie  opera.' 

Edward  siuiicd,  and  dived  at  once  into  the  little  crowd 
at  the  end  of  the  (]uarter->V'ck,  in  search  of  the  unJmown 
and  nameless  musician.  Nora  waited  impatiently  in  her 
seat  to  see  who  the  mysterious  personage  coul'l  be.  In  a 
few  seconds,  Edw  ard  came  back  again,  bringing  with  him 
the  admired  performer.  '  Miss  Dupuy  was  so  very  anxious 
to  make  your  acquaintance,'  he  said,  as  he  drew  the  sup- 
posed stranger  fonvuid,  '  on  the  ?ir*'ngth  of  your  oeautiful 
playing  and  sin  gin;;.  You  see,  M.st-'  Dunuj.  it's  a  fellow- 
passenger  to  whom  we've  already  iutroouc^d  oursuivc 
Dr.  Whitaker.' 


i 


N 


rji 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


Nora  drew  back  almost  imperceptibly  at  this  sudden 
revelation.  In  the  dusk  and  from  a  little  distance,  she 
liad  not  recognised  their  acquaintance  of  yesterday.  But 
it  was  indeed  the  mulatto  doctor.  However,  now  she  was 
fairly  trapped ;  and  having  thus  let  herself  in  for  the  young 
man's  society  for  that  particular  evening,  she  had  good 
sense  and  good  feeUng  enough  not  to  let  him  see,  at  least 
too  obtrusively,  that  she  did  not  desire  the  pleasure  of  his 
further  acquaintance.  To  be  sure,  she  spoke  as  little  and 
as  coldly  as  she  could  to  him,  in  such  ordinary  phrases  of 
polite  admiration  as  she  felt  were  called  for  under  these 
painful  circumstances ;  but  she  tried  to  temper  her  enthu- 
siasm down  to  a  proper  point  of  chilliness  for  a  clever  and 
well-taught  mulatto  fiddler.  (He  had  been  a  *  marvellous 
violinist '  in  her  own  mind  five  minutes  before ;  but  as 
he  turned  out  to  be  of  brown  blood,  she  felt  now  that 
'  clever  fiddler '  was  quite  good  enough  for  the  altered 
occasion.) 

Dr.  Whitakor,  however,  remained  in  happy  unconscious- 
ness of  Nora's  sudden  change  of  attitude.  He  drew  over 
a  camp-stool  from  near  thr;  gunwale,  and  seated  himself 
upon  it  just  in  front  of  the  little  group  in  their  folding 
ahip-chairs.  *  I'm  so  glad  you  like  my  playing.  Miss 
Dupuy,'  he  said  quietly,  turning  towards  Nora.  '  Music 
always  sounds  at  its  best  on  the  water  in  the  ovening. 
And  that's  such  a  lovely  piece — my  pet  piece — so  much 
fi-eling  and  pathos  and  delicate  melody  in  it.  Not  like 
most  of  Sponr :  a  very  unusual  worn  for  him ;  he's  so 
often  wantmg,  you  know,  in  tLe  sense  of  melody. 

*  You  play  charmingly,'  Nora  answerpd,  in  a  languid 
chilly  voice.  Your  song  and  your  playing  have  given  us  a 
great  treat,  I'm  sure.  Dr.  \Miitaker.' 

'  Where  httV(>  you  studied?'  Marina  asked  hastily,  feel- 
ing that  Nora  wasn't  showing  so  deep  an  interest  in  the 
subject  as  was  naturally  expected  of  her.  *  Have  you 
taken  lessons  in  Oeruiany  or  Italy?' 

*  A  few."  the  mulatto  doctor  replied  with  a  little  sigh, 
'  though  not  so  man)  as  I  could  hoypi  wished.  My  gi-eal 
ambition  would  have  been  to  study  regularly  at  the  Con- 
MTvatoire.    But  I  uuver  could  gratify  my  wish  in  that 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


respect,  and  I  learned  most  of  my  fiddling  by  myself  at 
Edinburgh.' 

'You're  an  Edinburgh  University  man,  I  suppose?' 
Edward  put  in. 

*  Yes,  an  Edinburgh  University  man.  The  medical 
course  tnere.,  you  know,  attracts  so  many  men  who  would 
like  better,  m  other  respects,  to  go  to  one  of  the  English 
universities. — You're  Cambiidge  yourself,  I  think,  Mr. 
Hawthorn,  aren't  you  ? ' 

*  Yes,  Cambridge.* 

The  mulatto  sighed  again.  '  A  lovely  place  I '  ho  said 
— *  a  most  dehcious  place,  Cambridge.  I  spent  a  charm- 
ing week  there  once  myself.  The  calm  repose  of  thcso 
grand  old  avenues  behind  John's  and  Trinity  charmed  me 
immensely. — A  place  to  sit  in  and  compose  symphonies, 
Mrs.  Hawthorn.  Nothing  that  I  have  seen  in  England  so 
greatly  impressed  me  with  the  idea  of  the  grand  antiquity 
of  the  country — the  vast  historical  background  of  civilisa- 
tion, century  behind  century,  and  generation  behind  gene- 
ration— as  that  beautiful  mingled  picture  of  venerable 
elms,  and  mouldering  architecture,  and  close-cropped 
greensward  at  the  backb  of  the  colleges.  The  very  grass 
liad  a  wonderful  look  of  antique  culture.  I  asked  the 
gardener  in  one  of  the  courts  of  Trinity  how  they  ever  got 
such  velvety  carpets  for  their  smooth  quadrangles,  and  the 
answer  the  fellow  gave  me  was  itself  redolent  of  the  tradi- 
tions  of  the  place.  "  We  rolls  'em  and  mows  'em,  sir," 
he  said,  "  and  we  mows  'em  and  rolls  'em,  for  a  thousand 
years."  * 

*  What  a  pity  you  couldn't  have  stopped  there  and  com- 
posed symphonies,  as  you  liiv'^d  it  so  much  t '  Nora  remarked, 
with  hardly  concealed  sarcasm-  -•  only  then,  of  course,  we 
shouldn't  have  had  the  pleasuro  of  hearing  you  play  your 
violin  so  beautifully  on  the  Severn  this  evening. ' 

Dr.  Whitaker  looked  up  at  her  quickly  with  a  piercing 
look.  '  Yes,'  he  replied ;  it  in  a  pity,  for  I  should  have 
dearly  loved  it.  I'm  bound  up  in  music,  almost ;  it's  one 
of  my  two  gpreat  passions.  But  I  had  more  than  one  reason 
for  feeling  that  I  ought,  if  possible,  to  go  back  to  Trinidad. 
The  first  is,  that  I  think  every  West  Inditui,  and  especially 


70 


IN  ALL  SHADEB 


every  man  of  my  colonr* — he  said  it  quite  naturally, 
simply,  and  unaffectedly,  without  pausing  or  hesitating — 
'  who  has  been  to  Europe  for  his  education,  owes  it  to  his 
country  to  come  back  again,  and  do  his  best  in  raising  its 
social,  intellectual,  and  artistic  level.* 

*  I'm  very  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,'  Edward  replied. 
'  I  think  so  myself,  too,  and  I'm  pleased  to  find  you  agrea 
with  me  in  the  matter. — And  your  second  reason  ? ' 

*  Well,  I  thought  my  colour  might  stand  in  my  way  in 
practice  in  England— very  naturally,  I'm  not  surprised  at 
it ;  while  in  Trinidad  I  might  be  able  to  do  a  great  deal  of 
good  and  find  a  great  manjr  patients  amongst  my  own 
people.' 

*  But  I'm  afraid  they  won't  be  able  to  pay  you,  you 
know,'  Nora  interposed.  *  The  poor  black  people  always 
expect  to  be  doctored  for  nothing.' 

Dr.  Whitaker  turned  upon  her  a  puzzled  pair  of  simple, 
honest,  open  eyes,  whose  curious  glance  of  mute  inquiry 
could  be  easily  observed  even  in  the  dim  moonhght.  '  I 
don't  think  of  practising  for  money/  he  said  simply,  as  if 
it  were  the  most  ordinary  statement  in  the  world.  '  My 
father  has  happily  means  enough  to  enable  me  to  live 
without  the  necessity  for  earning  a  hvelihood.  I  want  to 
be  of  some  use  in  my  generation,  and  to  help  my  own 
people,  if  possible,  to  rise  a  httle  in  the  scale  of  humanity. 
I  shall  practise  gratuitously  among  the  poorest  negioes,  and 
do  what  I  can  to  raise  and  better  their  unhappy  condition.' 

For  a  second,  nobody  answered  a  word;  this  quiet 
declaration  of  an  honest  self-sacrifice  took  them  all,  even 
Nora,  so  utterly  by  surprise.  Then  Edward  murmured 
musingly :  *  And  it  was  for  this  that  you  gave  up  the  pro- 
spect of  living  at  Cambridge,  and  composing  symphonies 
in  Trinity  gardens  ! ' 

The  mulatto  smiled  a  deprecating  smile.  '  Oh,'  he 
cried  timidly,  'you  mustn't  say  that.  I  didn't  want  to 
make  oat  I  was  going  to  do  anything  so  very  grand  or  so 
very  heroic.  Of  course,  a  man  miiat  satisfv  himself  he's 
doing  something  to  justify  his  existence  in  tne  world :  and 
much  as  I  love  music,  I  hardly  feel  as  though  playing  the 
violin  were  in  itself  a  sufficient  end  for  a  man  to  live  for. 


IN  ALL  8HADB8 


71 


Though  I  mast  confess  I  should  very  much  like  to  stop  in 
Englajid  and  be  a  composer.  I  have  composed  one  or  two 
little  pieces  already  for  the  violin,  that  have  been  played 
with  some  success  at  public  concerts.  Sarasate  played  a 
small  thing  of  mine  last  winter  at  a  festival  in  Vienna. 
But  then,  besides,  my  father  and  friends  live  in  Trinidad, 
and  I  feel  that  that's  the  place  where  my  work  in  life  is 
really  cut  out  for  me.' 

*  And  your  second  great  passion  ? '  Marian  inquired. 
•  You  said  you  had  a  second  great  passion.  What  is  it,  I 
wonder? — Oh,  of  course,  I  see — your  profession.' 

(*  How  could  slie  be  so  stupid  ! '  Nora  thought  to  her- 
self. '  What  a  silly  girl  I  I'm  afraid  of  my  life  now,  the 
wretched  man  '11  try  to  say  something  pretty.') 

*  Oh,  no ;  not  my  profession,'  Dr.  Whitaker  answered, 
smiling.  'It's  a  noble  profession,  of  course  — the  noblest 
and  grandest,  almost,  of  all  the  professions— assuaging 
and  alleviating  human  suffering ;  but  one  looks  upon  it, 
for  all  that,  rather  as  a  duty  than  as  a  passion.  Besides, 
there's  one  thing  greater  even  than  the  alleviation  of 
human  suffering,  greater  than  art  with  all  its  allurements, 
greater  than  anything  elsn  that  a  man  can  interest  himself 
in— though  I  know  most  people  don't  think  so — and  that's 
science— the  knowledge  of  our  relations  with  the  universe, 
and  still  more  of  the  universe's  relations  with  its  various 
parts. — No,  Mrs.  Hawthorn ;  my  second  absorbing  passion, 
next  to  music,  and  higher  than  music,  is  one  that  I'm  sure 
ladies  won't  sympathise  with— it's  only  botany.' 

'  Goodness  gracious ! '  Nora  cried,  surprised  into  speech. 
'  I  thought  botany  was  nothing  but  the  most  dreadfully 
hard  words,  all  about  nothing  on  earth  that  anybody  cared 
fori' 

The  mulatto  looked  at  her  open-eyed  with  a  sort  of 
mild  astonishment.  •  What  ? '  he  said.  •  All  the  glorious 
lilies  a^d  cactuses  and  palms  and  orchids  of  our  beautiful 
Trinidad  nothing  but  hard  words  that  nobody  cares  for  I 
All  the  slender  lianas  that  trail  and  droop  from  the  huge 
buttresses  of  the  wild  cotton  trees;  all  the  gorgeous 
trumpet-oreepers  that  drape  the  gnarled  branches  of  the 
mountain  star- apples  with  their  scarlet  blossoms ;  all  the 


9f 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


huge  cecropias,  that  rise  aloft  with  their  silvery  stems  and 
fan-shaped  leaves,  towering  into  the  air  like  gigantic  can- 
delabra ;  all  the  graceful  tree-ferns  and  feathery  bamboos, 
and  glossy-leaved  magnolias  and  majestic  bananas,  and 
luxuriant  gingerworts  and  clustering  arums,  all  the  breadth 
and  depth  of  tropical  foliage,  with  the  rugged  and  knotted 
creepers,  festooned  in  veritable  cables  of  vivid  g'een,  from 
branch  to  branch  among  tho  dim  mysterious  forest  shades 
— stretched  in  tight  cordage  Hke  the  rigging  yonder  from 
mast  to  mast,  for  miles  together — oh.  Miss  Dupuy,  is  that 
nothing  ?  Do  you  call  that  notliing  for  a  man  to  fix  his 
loving  regard  upon?  Our  o^vn  Trinidad  is  wonderfully 
rich  still  in  such  natural  glories;  and  it's  the  hope  of 
doing  a  little  in  my  spare  hours  to  explore  and  disentomb 
them,  like  hidden  treasures,  that  partly  m-ges  me  to  go  back 
again  where  manifest  destiny  calls  me,  to  the  land  I  was 
bom  in.* 

The  mulatto  is  always  fluent,  even  when  uneducated ; 
but  Dr.  Whitaker,  learned  in  all  the  learning  of  the 
schools,  and  pouring  forth  his  full  heart  enthusiastically 
on  the  subjects  nearest  and  dearest  to  him,  spoke  with 
such  a  ready,  easy  eloquence— common  enough,  indeed, 
among  south  Europeans,  and  among  Celtic  Scots  and  Irish 
as  well,  but  rare  and  almost  unknown  m  our  colder  and 
more  phlegmatic  Anglo-Saxon  constitutions — that  Nora 
listened  to  him,  quite  taken  aback  by  the  flood  of  his  native 
rhetoric,  and  whispered  to  herself  in  her  own  soul : 
*  Really,  he  talks  very  well  after  all — for  a  coloured 
person !  * 

'  Yes,  of  course,  all  those  things  are  very  lovely.  Dr. 
Whitaker,'  Marian  put  in,  more  for  the  sake  of  drawing 
him  out — for  he  was  so  interesting— than  because  she 
really  wanted  to  disagree  with  him  upon  the  subject.  '  But 
tlien  that  isn't  botany.  I  always  thought  botany  was  a 
mere  matter  of  stamens  and  petals,  and  all  sorts  of  other 
dreadful  technicalities.' 

*  Stamens  and  petals  I  *  the  mulatto  echoed  half  oon- 
temptuously — *  stamens  and  petals  !  You  might  as  well 
say  art  was  all  a  matter  of  pigments  and  perspective,  or 
music  all  a  matter  of  crotchets  and  quavers,  as  botany 


TN  ALL  SHADES 


TS 


all  a  matter  of  stamens  and  petals.  Those  are  only  the 
beggarly  elements:  the  beautiful  pictures,  the  glorious 
oratorios,  the  lovely  flowers,  are  the  real  things  to  which 
in  the  end  they  all  minister.  It's  the  trees  and  the  plants 
themselves  that  interest  me,  not  the  mere  lifeless  jargon  of 
stamens  and  petals.' 

They  sat  there  late  into  the  night,  discussing  things 
musical  and  West  Lidian  and  otherwise,  without  any 
desire  to  move  away  or  cut  short  the  conversation ;  and 
Dr.  Whitaker,  his  reserve  now  broken,  talked  on  to  them 
hour  after  hour,  doing  the  lion's  share  of  the  conversation, 
and  delighting  them  with  his  transparent  easy  talk  and 
open-hearted  simplicity.  He  was  frankly  egotistical,  of 
course — all  persons  of  African  blood  always  are ;  but  his 
egotism,  such  as  it  was,  took  the  pleasing  form  of  an 
enthusiasm  about  his  own  pet  ideas  and  pursuits — a  love 
of  music,  a  love  of  flowers,  a  love  of  his  profession,  and  a 
love  of  Trinidad.  To  these  favourite  notes  he  recurred 
fondly  again  and  again,  vigorously  defending  the  violin  as 
an  exponent  of  human  emotion  against  Edward's  half- 
insincere  expression  of  preference  for  wind  instruments; 
going  into  raptures  to  Nora  over  the  wonderful  beauty  of 
their  common  home ;  and  describing  to  Marian  in  vivid 
language  the  grandeur  of  those  marvellous  tropical  forests 
whose  strange  loveliness  she  had  never  yet  with  her  own 
eyes  beheld. 

'Picture  to  yourself,'  he  said,  looking  out  vaguely 
beyond  the  ship  on  to  the  starlit  Atlantic,  '  a  great  Gothio 
cathedral  or  Egyptian  temple — Ely  or  Kamak  wrought, 
not  in  freestone  or  marble,  but  in  living  trees — with  huge 
cylindrical  columns  strengthened  below  by  projecting  but- 
tresses, and  supporting  overhead,  a  hundred  feet  on  high, 
an  unbroken  canopy  of  interlacing  fohage.  Dense — so 
dense  that  only  an  indistinct  glimmer  of  the  sky  can  be 
seen  here  and  there  through  the  great  canopy,  just  as  you 
see  Orion's  belt  over  yonder  through  the  fringe  of  clouds 
upon  the  grey  horizon ;  and  even  the  intense  tropical  sun- 
light only  reaches  the  ground  at  Inng  intervals  in  little 
broken  patches  of  subdued  paleness.  Then  there's  the 
solemn  silence,  weird  and  gloomy,  that  produces  in  ono  mi 


74 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


almost  painful  sense  of  the  vast,  tiiu  primeval,  the  mystical, 
the  infinite.  Only  the  low  hum  of  the  insects  in  the  forest 
shade,  the  endless  multitudinous  whisper  of  the  wind  among 
the  foliage,  the  faint  sound  begotten  by  the  tropical  growth 
it:;clf,  breaks  the  immemorial  stillness  in  our  West  Indian 
wiiodland.  It's  a  world  in  which  man  seems  to  be  a  noisy 
intruder,  and  where  he  stands  awe-struck  before  the  intense 
loveliness  of  Nature,  in  the  immediate  presence  of  her 
nnceasiing  forces.' 

Ue  stopped  a  moment,  not  for  breath,  for  it  seemed  as 
if  he  could  pour  out  language  without  an  effort,  in  the  pro- 
found enthusiasm  of  youth,  but  to  take  his  violin  once  more 
tenderly  from  its  case  and  hold  it  out,  hesitating,  before 
him.  '  Will  you  let  me  play  you  just  one  more  little  piece  ?  ' 
he  asked  apologetically.  •  It's  a  piece  of  my  own,  into  which 
I've  tried  to  put  some  of  the  feelings  about  these  tropical 
forests  that  I  never  could  possibly  express  in  words.  I  call 
it  "  Souvenirs  des  Lianes."  Will  you  let  me  play  it  to 
you  ?    I  shan't  be  boring  you  ?    Thnnk  you— thank  you.' 

He  stood  up  before  them  in  the  pa  light  of  that  summer 
evening,  tall  and  erect,  violin  on  Breast  and  bow  in  hand, 
and  began  pouring  forth  from  his  responsive  instrument  a 
slow  flood  of  low,  plaintive,  mysterious  music.  It  was  not 
difficult  to  see  what  had  inspired  his  brain  and  hand  in  that 
strangely  weird  and  expressive  piece.  The  profound  shade 
and  gloom  of  the  forest,  the  great  roof  of  overarching  foUage, 
the  flutter  of  the  endless  leaves  before  the  breeze,  the  con- 
fused murmur  of  the  myriad  wings  and  voices  of  the  insects, 
nay,  even  the  very  stillness  and  silence  itself  of  which  he 
had  spoken,  all  seemed  to  breathe  forth  deeply  and  solemnly 
on  his  quivering  fiddle.  It  was  a  triumph  of  art  over  its 
own  resources.  On  the  organ  or  the  flute,  one  would  have 
said  beforehand,  such  effects  as  these  might  indeed  be  ob- 
tained, but  surely  never,  never  on  the  vioHn.  Yet  in  Dr. 
Whitaker's  hand  that  scraping  bow  seemed  capable  of  ex- 
pressing even  what  he  himself  had  called  the  sense  of  the 
vast,  the  primeval,  and  the  infinite.  They  listened  aU  in 
hushed  silence,  and  scarcely  so  much  as  dared  to  breathe 
while  the  soft  pensive  cadences  still  floated  out  solemnly 
acrosn  tho  cnlm  ocean.    And  when  he  bad  finished,  they 


TN  ALL   SHADES 


75 


sat  for  a  few  minutes  in  perfect  silence,  rendering  tho  per- 
former that  instinctiye  homage  of  mute  applause  which  is 
BO  far  more  really  eloquent  than  any  mere  formal  and  con- 
Tentional  expression  of  thanks  '  for  your  charming  plajdng.' 

As  they  sat  so,  each  musing  quietly  over  the  various 
emotions  aroused  within  them  hy  the  mulatto's  forest 
echoes,  one  of  the  white  gentlemen  in  the  stern,  a  younj/ 
English  o£Bcer  on  his  way  out  to  join  a  West  Indian  regi- 
ment, came  up  suddenly  behind  them,  clapped  his  hand 
familiarly  on  Edward's  back,  and  said  in  a  loud  and  cheer- 
ful tone :  •  Come  along,  Hawthorn ;  we've  had  enough  of 
this  music  now — thank  you  very  much,  Dr.  Thingummy — 
let's  all  go  down  to  the  saloon,  I  say,  and  have  a  game  of 
nap  or  a  quiet  rubber.' 

Even  Nora  felt  in  her  heart  as  though  she  had  sud- 
denly been  recalled  by  that  untimely  voice  from  some 
higher  world  to  this  vulgar,  commonplace  little  planet  of 
ours,  the  young  officer  had  broken  in  so  rudely  on  her 
silent  reverie.  She  drew  her  dainty  white  lamb's-wool 
wrapper  closer  around  her  shoulders  with  a  faint  sigh, 
slipped  her  hand  gently  through  Marian's  arm,  and  moved 
away,  slowly  and  thoughtfully,  toward  the  companion- 
ladder.  As  she  reached  the  doorway  she  turned  round,  as 
if  half  ashamed  of  her  own  graciousness,  and  said  in  a  low 
and  genuine  voice :  •  Thank  you.  Dr.  Whitaker — thank 
you  very  much  indeed.  We've  so  greatly  enjoyed  the  treat 
you've  given  us.' 

The  mulatto  bowed  and  said  nothing;  but  instead  of 
retiring  to  the  saloon  with  the  others,  he  put  his  violin 
case  quietly  under  his  arm,  and  walking  alone  to  the  stern 
of  the  vessel,  leant  upon  the  gunwale  long  and  mutely, 
looking  over  with  all  his  eyes  deep  and  far  into  the  silent, 
heaving,  moonlit  water.  The  sound  of  Nora's  voice  thank- 
ing him  reverberated  long  through  all  the  echoing  chambers 
'^  hii  memory. 


I! 


Hi  ALL  SHAttBA 


CHAPTER  X. 

It  is  a  tmism  nowadays,  in  this  age  of  travelling,  that  yon 
see  a  great  deal  more  of  people  in  a  few  weeks  on  board 
ship  at  sea  together  than  you  would  see  in  a  few  years  of 
that  vacant  calling  and  dining  and  attending  crushes  which 
we  ordinarily  speak  of  as  society.  Nora  I)upuy  and  the 
two  Hawtlioms  certainly  saw  a  great  deal  more  of  Dr. 
VVhitaker  during  their  tliree  weeks  on  board  the  Severn 
than  they  would  ever  have  seen  of  him  in  throe  years  of 
England  or  of  Trinidad.  Nora  had  had  the  young  man's 
acquaintance  thrust  upon  her  by  circumstances,  to  be  sure  : 
but  as  the  Hawthorns  sat  and  talked  a  great  deal  with  him, 
rhe  T«ras  compelled  to  do  so  likewise,  and  she  had  too  much 
good  feeling  to  let  him  see  very  markedly  her  innate  pre- 
judice against  his  colour.  Besides,  she  admitted  even  to 
herself  that  Dr.  Whitakcr,  for  a  brown  man,  was  really  a 
very  gentlemanly,  well-informed  person — quite  an  excep- 
tional mulatto,  in  fact,  and  as  such,  to  be  admitted  to  the 
position  of  a  gentleman  by  courtesy,  much  as  Gulliver  was 
excepted  by  the  Houyhnhnms  from  the  same  category  of 
utter  reprobation  as  the  ordinary  Yahoos  of  their  own 
country. 

Most  of  the  voyage  was  as  decently  calm  as  any  one 
can  reasonably  expect  from  the  North  Atlantic.  There 
were  the  usual  episodes  of  fipng-fish  and  Mother  Carey's 
cliickens,  and  the  usual  excitement  of  a  daily  sweepstake 
on  the  length  of  the  ship's  run ;  but,  on  the  whole,  the 
only  distinct  landmarks  of  time  for  the  entire  three  weeks 
between  Southampton  and  St.  Thomas  were  breakfast, 
luncheon,  dinner,  and  bedtime.  The  North  Atlantic,  what- 
ever novelists  may  say,  is  not  a  romantic  stretch  of  ocean ; 
and  in  spite  of  prepossessions  to  the  contrary,  a  ship  at  sea 
io  not  at  all  a  convenient  place  for  the  free  exercise  of  the 
noble  art  of  flirting.  It  lacks  the  needful  opportunities 
for  retirement  from  the  full  blaze  of  public  observation  to 
thy  comers ;  it  is  far  too  exposed,  and  on  the  whole  too 


nr  ALL  SHADES 


77 


unstable  also.  Altogether,  the  voyage  was  mostly  a  mono- 
tonons  one,  whioh  is  equivalent  to  saying  that  it  was  safe 
tod  comfortable ;  for  the  only  possible  break  in  the  ordinary 
routine  of  a  sea-passage  must  necessarily  be  a  fire  on  board 
or  a  collision  with  a  rival  steamer.  However,  about  two 
days  out  from  St.  Thomas,  there  came  a  little  relief  from 
the  tedium  of  the  dailv  situation  ;  and  the  relief  assumed 
the  unpleasant  form  of  a  genuine  West  Indian  hurricane. 

Nora  had  never  before  seen  anything  like  it ;  or,  at  any 
rate,  if  she  had,  she  had  clean  forgotten  all  about  it. 
Though  the  captain  had  declared  it  was  '  too  soon '  for 
hurricanes,  this  was,  in  fact,  a  very  fine  tropical  tornado 
of  the  very  fiercest  and  yeastiest  description.  About  two 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  the  passengers  were  all  sitting 
ont  on  deck,  when  the  sea,  till  then  a  dead  calm,  began  to 
be  faintly  ruffled  by  little  whiffs  and  spurts  of  wind,  which 
raised  here  and  there  tiny  patches  of  wavelets,  scarcely 
perceptible  to  the  blunt  vision  of  the  unaccustomed  lands- 
man. But  the  experienced  eye  of  a  sailor  could  read  in 
it  at  once  a  mahgnant  hint  of  the  coming  tempest.  Pre- 
sently, the  breeze  freshened  with  extraordinary  rapidity, 
and  before  five  o'clock,  the  cyclone  had  burst  upon  tht  m 
in  all  its  violence.  The  rush  of  a  mighty  gale  was  heard 
through  the  rigging,  swaying  and  bending  the  masts  like 
sapling  willows  before  the  autumn  breezes.  The  waves, 
lashed  into  fury  by  the  fierce  and  fitful  gusts  of  wind, 
broke  ever  and  anon  over  the  side  of  the  vessel ;  and  the 
big  Severn  tossed  about  helplessly  before  the  frantic  tempest 
like  the  veriest  cockboat  in  an  angry  sea  upon  a  northern 
ocean.  Of  course,  at  the  first  note  of  serious  danger,  the 
passengers  were  all  ordered  below  to  the  saloon,  where  they 
sat  in  mute  suspense,  the  women  pale  and  trembling,  the 
men  trving  to  look  as  if  they  cared  very  little  about  it, 
while  the  great  ship  rolled  and  tossed  and  pitched  and 
creaked  and  rattled  in  all  her  groaning  timbers  beneath 
the  mad  frenzy  of  that  terrific  commotion. 

Just  as  they  were  being  turned  off  the  decks  to  be 
penned  up  downstairs  like  so  many  helpless  sheep  in  the 
lower  cabin,  Nora  Dupuy,  who  had  been  standing  with  the 
Hawthorns  and  Dr.  Whitaker,  watching  the  huge  and  ever- 


1 


t 


fl  tif  ALL  8BAt>SB 

increasing  waves  bursting  madly  over  the  side  of  the  vessel, 
happened  to  drop  her  shawl  at  starting  on  to  the  dock 
boside  the  companion-ladder.  At  that  very  moment,  a 
bigger  sea  than  any  they  had  yet  enoountered  broke  with 
shivering  force  against  the  bro  idside  of  the  steamer,  ar.d 
swept  across  the  deck  in  a  drowning  flood  as  though  it 
would  carry  evsiything  bodily  before  it.  'Make  haste, 
there  I '  the  Ciiptain  called  out  imperatively. — '  Steward, 
send  'em  all  down  below,  this  minute.  I  shouldn't  be 
surprised  if  before  night  we  were  to  have  a  capful  of  nasty 
weather.' 

But  even  as  he  spoke,  the  wave,  which  had  caught 
Nora's  shawl  and  driven  it  over  to  tlie  leeward  side,  noT7 
in  its  reflux  sucked  it  back  again  swiftly  to  windward,  and 
left  it  lying  all  wet  and  matted  against  the  gunwale  in  a 
mass  of  disorder.  Dr.  Whitaker  jumped  after  it  instinc- 
tively, and  tried  to  catch  it  before  another  wave  could  carry 
it  overboard  altogether.  *  Oh,  pray,  don't  trouble  about  it,* 
Nora  cried,  in  hasty  deprecation.  '  It  isn't  worth  it.  Take 
care,  or  you'll  get  wet  through  and  through  yooxself  before 
you  know  it  I ' 

'  The  Tc  <m'8  a  fool,*  the  unceremonious  oa;pt!un  called 
out  bluntly  £:om  his  perch  above.  *  Get  */et  mdeed  t  If 
another  sea  like  that  strikes  the  ship,  it  '11  wash  him  dean 
overboard. — Come  back,  sir ;  I  tell  you,  come  back  t  No 
one  but  a  sailor  can  keep  his  feet  properly  against  the  force 
of  a  sea  like  that  one  t ' 

NoicN  and  the  few  other  passengers  nrho  had  Rtill  re- 
mained on  deck  stood  trembling  under  shelter  of  the 
glazed-in  companion-ladder,  wondering  whethei*  the  rash 
mulatto  would  really  carry  out  his  foolhardy  endeavour  to 
recover  the  wrapper.  The  sailor  stood  by,  ready  to  batten 
down  the  hatches  as  soon  as  the  deck  was  fiedrly  deareii, 
and  waiting  impatientlv  for  the  last  lingerer.  But  Dr. 
Whitaker  took  not  the  slightest  notice  of  captain  or  sailor, 
and  merely  glanced  back  at  Nora  with  a  quiet  smile,  as 
if  to  reassure  her  of  his  perfect  safety.  He  stood  by  the 
gunwale,  just  clutching  at  the  shawl,  in  the  very  act  of 
recovering  it,  when  a  second  sea,  still  more  violent  than 
the  last,  struck  the  ship  once  more  full  on  the  side,  and 


IN  ALL  8BADE8 


79 


•wept  the  mulatto  helplessly  before  it  right  across  the 
quarter-deck.  It  dashed  him  with  terrific  force  against 
the  bulwarks  on  the  opposite  side ;  and  for  a  moment, 
Nora  gave  a  scream  of  terror,  imagining  it  would  cannr 
him  overboard  with  its  sudden  flood.  The  next  second, 
the  ship  righted  itself,  and  they  saw  the  young  doctor 
rising  to  his  feet  once  more,  bruised  and  dripping,  but 
still  not  seriously  or  visibly  injured.  The  sea  had  washed 
the  shawl  once  more  out  of  his  grasp,  with  the  force  of 
the  shock ;  and  instead  of  rushing  back  to  the  shelter  of 
the  ladder,  he  tried  even  now  to  recover  it  a  second  time 
from  the  windward  side,  where  the  recoil  had  again  capri- 
ciously carried  it.  •  The  shawl,  the  shawl  I '  ha  cried  ex- 
citedly, gliding  once  more  across  the  wet  and  shppery 
decks  as  she  lurched  anew,  in  the  foolish  effort  to  catch 
the  worthless  wrapper. 

'  Confound  the  man  t '  the  captain  roared  from  his  place 
on  tb<j  bridge.  '  Does  he  think  the  Ck}mpany'B  going  to 
lose  a  passenger's  life  for  nothing,  just  to  satisfy  his  in- 
fernal pohte^css  I— Go  down,  sir— go  down,  this  minute,  I 
tell  you  ;  or  else,  by  jingo.  If  you  don't,  I  shall  have  you 
put  m  irons  at  once  for  the  rest  of  the  voyage.' 

The  mulatto  looked  up  at  h;m  with  a  smile  and  nodded 
cheerfully.  He  held  up  his  left  hand  proudly  above  his 
head,  with  the  dripping  shawl  now  waving  in  his  grasp 
like  a  much -bedraggled  banner,  while  witii  his  right  he 
gripped  a  rope  firmly  and  steadily,  to  hold  his  own  against  the 
next  approaching  billow.  In  a  second,  the  big  sea  was  over 
him  once  moro ;  and  till  the  huge  wall  of  water  had  swept 
its  way  across  the  entire  breadth  of  the  vessel,  Nora  and 
Marian  couldn't  discover  whether  it  had  dashed  him  bodily 
overboard  or  left  him  still  standing  by  the  windward  gun- 
wale. There  was  a  pause  of  suspense  while  one  might 
count  twenty ;  and  then,  as  the  vessel  rolled  once  more  to 
port.  Dr.  Whitaker's  toll  figure  could  be  seen,  still  erect 
and  grasping  the  cable,  with  the  shawl  triumphantly 
flourished,  even  so,  in  his  disengaged  hand.  The  next 
instant,  he  was  over  at  the  ladder,  and  had  placed  the  wet 
and  soaking  wrapper  back  in  the  hands  of  its  original 
possessor. 


flO 


IN  ALL  8EADE3 


'  i 


ill 


*  Dr.  Whitaker/  Nora  cried  to  him,  half  laughing  and 
half  pale  with  terror,  *  I'm  very  angry  with  you.  You  had 
no  right  to  imperil  your  life  like  that  for  nothing  better 
than  a  bit  of  a  wrapper.  It  was  awfully  wrong  of  you ; 
and  I'll  never  wear  the  shawl  again  as  long  as  I  live,  now 
that  you've  brought  it  back  to  me  at  the  risk  of  drowning.' 

The  mulatto,  smihng  unconcernedly  in  spite  of  his 
wetting,  bowed  a  little  bow  of  quiet  acquiescence.  'I'm 
glad  to  think,  Lliss  Dupuy,'  he  repHed  in  a  low  voice, 
*  that  you  regard  my  hfe  as  so  well  worth  preserving. — But 
did  you  ever  before  in  all  your  days  see  anything  so  glorious 
as  those  monstrous  bDlows  1 ' 

Nora  bit  her  lip  tacitly,  and  answered  nothing  for  a 
brief  moment.  Then  she  added  merely  :  •  Thank  you  for 
your  kindness/  in  a  constrained  voice,  and  turned  below 
mto  the  crowdcid  dining  saloon.  Dr.  Whitaker  did  not 
rejoin  them ;  he  went  back  to  his  own  state-room,  to  put 
on  some  dry  clothes  after  his  foolhardy  adventure,  and  think 
of  Nora's  eyes  in  the  sohtude  of  his  cabin. 

There  is  no  position  in  hfe  more  helplessly  feeble  for 
grown-up  men  and  women  than  that  of  people  battened 
down  in  a  ship  at  sea  in  the  midst  of  a  great  and  dangerous 
tempest.  On  deck,  the  captain  and  the  officers,  out  off  from 
all  communication  with  below,  know  how  the  storm  is  going 
and  how  the  ship  is  weathering  it;  but  the  unconscious 
passengers  in  their  crowded  quarters,  treated  Hke  children 
by  the  rough  seafaring  men,  can  only  sit  below  in  hopeless 
ignorance,  waiting  to  learn  the  fate  in  store  for  them  when 
the  tempest  wills  it.  And,  indeed,  the  hurricane  that  night 
was  quite  enough  to  make  even  strong  men  feel  their  own 
utter  and  abject  powerlessness.  From  the  moment  they 
were  all  battened  down  in  the  big  saloon,  after  the  first 
fresh  squall,  the  storm  burst  in  upon  them  in  real  earnest 
with  terrific  and  ever-increasing  violence.  The  wind  howled 
and  whistled  fiercely  through  the  ropes  and  rigging.  The 
ship  bounced  now  on  to  the  steep  orep^  of  a  swelling  billow ; 
now  wallowed  helplessly  in  the  deep  trough  that  intervened 
between  each  and  its  mad  successor.  The  sea  seemed  to 
dash  in  upon  the  side  every  second  with  redoubled  intensity, 
sweep iiig  through  the  scupper >holes  with  a  roar  hke  thunder. 


nf  ALL  SHADES 


81 


The  waves  crai^hed  down  upon  the  battpnod  sltyliglits  in 
blinding  deluges.  Every  now  and  then  they  could  hear 
the  cracking  of  a  big  timber — some  spar  or  boom  torn  off 
from  the  masts,  like  rotten  branches  from  a  dead  tree,  by 
the  mighty  force  of  the  irrer.istible  cyclone.  "Whirling  and 
roaring  and  sputtering  and  rattling  and  creaking,  the  storm 
raged  on  for  hour  after  hour ;  and  the  pale  and  frightened 
women,  sitting  huddled  together  in  little  groups  on  the 
crimson  velvet  cusliions  of  the  stulTy  saloon,  looked  at  one 
another  in  silent  awe,  clasping  each  other's  hands  with 
bloodless  fingers,  by  way  of  companionship  in  their  mute 
terror.  From  time  to  time  they  could  jupt  overhear,  in 
the  lulls  between  the  great  gusts,  the  capti-in's  loud  voiee 
shouting  out  inaudible  directions  to  the  sjiilors  overhead; 
and  the  engineer's  bell  was  rung  over  and  over  again,  with 
bewildering  frequency,  to  stop  her,  back  her,  ease  her, 
steady  her,  or  put  her  head  once  more  bravely  against  the 
face  of  the  ever-shifting  and  shattering  storm. 

Hour  after  hour  went  by  slowly,  and  still  i.obody  stirred 
from  the  hushed  saloon.  At  eleven  all  lights  were  usually 
put  out,  with  Spartan  severity;  but  this  night,  in  con- 
sideration of  the  hurricane,  the  stewards  left  them  bnming 
stiU:  they  didn't  luiow,  they  said,  when  they  miglit  be 
wanted  for  prayers,  if  the  ship  should  begin  to  show  signs 
of  sudden  foundering.  So  the  passengers  sat  on  still  in  the 
saloon  together,  till  four  o'clock  began  to  bring  back  the 
daylight  again  with  a  lurid  glare  away  to  eastward.  Then 
the  tirst  fury  of  the  hurricane  began  to  abate  a  little — a 
very  little;  and  the  seas  crashed  a  trifle  less  frequently 
against  the  thick  and  solid  plate-glass  of  the  sealed  sky- 
lights. Edward  at  last  persuaded  Marian  and  Nora  to  go 
down  to  their  state-rooms  and  try  to  snatch  a  short  spell  of 
sleep.  The  danger  was  over  now,  he  said,  and  they  might 
fairly  venture  to  recover  a  bit  from  the  long  terror  of  that 
awful  night. 

As  they  wont  staggering  feebly  along  tlio  unsteady  cor- 
ridors below,  hghted  by  the  dim  lamps  as  yet  unextinguished, 
they  happened  to  pass  the  door  of  a  state-room  whence,  to 
their  great  surprise,  in  the  midst  of  that  terrible  awe-inspiring 
hurricane,  the  notes  of  a  violin  oould  be  distinctly  heard* 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


mingling  strangely  in  a  weird  harmony  with  the  groaning 
ci  the  wind  and  the  omirons  creaking  of  the  overstrained 
and  rumbling  timbers.  The  sounds  were  not  those  of  a 
regular  piece  of  studied  music ;  they  were  mere  fitful  bars 
and  stray  snatches  of  tempestuous  melody,  that  imitated 
and  registered  the  inarticulate  music  of  the  whirlwind 
itself  even  as  it  passed  wildly  before  them.  Nora  paused  a 
moment  beside  the  half-cpen  door.  '  Why,'  she  whispered 
to  Marian  in  an  awe-struck  undertone,  clutching  convul- 
sively at  the  hand-rail  to  steady  herself,  '  it  must  be  Dr. 
Whitaker.  He's  actually  playing  his  violin  to  himself  in 
the  midst  of  all  this  awful  uproar  1  * 

*It  is,'  Edward  Hawthorn  answered  confidently.  *I 
linow  his  state-room — that's  the  number.' 

He  pushed  the  half-open  door  a  little  farther  ajar,  and 
peeped  mside  with  sudden  curiosity.  There  on  the  bunk 
^at  the  mulatto  doctor,  unmoved  amid  the  awful  horse-play 
of  the  careering  elements,  with  his  violin  in  his  hands,  and 
a  little  piece  of  blank  paper  ruled  with  pencilled  mu^ic-lines 
pinned  up  roughly  against  the  wall  of  the  cabin  beside  him. 
Ke  started  and  laughed  a  little  at  the  sudden  apparition  of 
Ejdward  Hawthorn's  head  within  the  doorway.  '  Ah,'  he 
said,  pointing  to  a  few  scratchy  pencil-marks  on  the  little 
piece  of  ruled  paper,  *  ycu  see,  Mr.  Hawthorn,  I  couldn't 
."^leop,  and  so  I've  been  amusing  myself  with  a  fit  of  com- 
posing. I'm  catching  some  fi-esh  ider-  'or  a  piece  from  the 
tearing  wind  and  the  hubbub  of  the  b  iers.  Isn't  it  grand, 
the  music  of  the  stonn  I  I  shall  work  it  up  by-and-by,  no 
doubt,  into  a  little  hurricane  sympliony. — Listen,  here — 
listen.'  And  he  drew  his  bow  rapidly  across  the  strings 
with  skilful  fingers,  and  brought  forth  from  the  violin  some 
few  bars  of  a  strangely  wild  and  storm-like  melody,  that 
seemed  to  have  caught  the  very  spirit  of  the  terrible  tornado 
still  raging  everywhere  so  madly  aroimd  them. 

'Has  the  man  no  feelings,'  Nora  exclaimed  with  a 
shudder  to  Marian,  outside,  '  that  he  can  play  his  fiddle 
in  this  storm,  like  Nero  or  somebody  when  Borne  was 
burning  1 ' 

*  I  think,'  Marian  uaid,  with  a  little  sigh,  *  he  has  some 
stronger  overpowering  feeling  underneath,  that  makes  him 


IN  ALL  8ltADR9  U 

think  nothing  of  the  hurricane  or  anything  else,  but  keepi 
him  wrapped  ap  entirely  In  its  uwn  oirole.' 

Next  day,  wlien  the  sea  had  gone  down  somewhat,  and 
the  passonRnm  had  begun  to  struggle  up  on  deck  one  by 
one  with  paUid  faces,  Dr.  Whitakor  made  his  appearance 
unce  more,  clothed  and  in  his  right  mind,  and  hsuided 
Nora  a  liitlo  roll  of  manuscript  music.  Nora  took  it  and 
glanced  carelessly  at  the  first  page.  She  started  when  she 
saw  it  was  inscribed  in  a  round  and  careful  oopper-plate 
hand — *  To  Miss  Dupuy. — Hurricane  Symphony.  By  W. 
Glarkson  Whitaker,  M.B.,  Mus.  Bao.'  Nora  read  hastily 
through  the  first  few  bars — the  soughing  and  freshening  of 
the  wind  in  its  earlier  gusts,  before  the  actual  tempest  had 
yet  swept  wildly  over  them — and  murmured  half  aloud: 
*It  looks  very  pretty — ver^  fine,  I  mean.  I  should  like 
Bome  day  to  hear  you  play  it.' 

'  If  vou  would  permit  me  to  prefix  tout  name  to  the 
piece  when  it's  published  in  London,*  the  mulatto  doctor 
said  with  an  anxious  air—  'just  as  I've  prefixed  it  there  at 
the  head  of  the  title-page — I  should  be  very  deeply  obliged 
and  grateful  to  you.' 

Nora  hesitated  a  moment.  A  brown  man !  Her  name 
on  the  first  page  of  his  printed  music  t  What  vrould  people 
say  in  Trinidad?  And  yet,  what  excuse  could  she  give  for 
answering  no  ?  She  pretendud  for  a  while  to  be  oatchihg 
back  her  veil,  that  the  ^iud  blew  about  her  face  and  hair, 
to  gain  time  for  consideration ;  then  she  said  with  a  smile 
of  apology :  •  It  would  look  so  conceited  of  me,  you  know — 
wouldn't  it,  Dr.  Whitaker  ?  as  if  I  were  setting  myself  up 
to  be  some  ^eat  one,  to  whom  people  weie  expected  to 
dedicate  music' 

The  mulatto's  face  fell  a  little  with  obvious  disappoint- 
ment ;  but  he  answered  quietly :  '  As  you  will.  Miss 
Dupu^.  It  was  somewhat  presumptuous  of  me,  perhaps, 
to  tlnnk  you  would  accept  a  dedication  from  me  on  so 
short  an  acquaintance.' 

Nora'0  cheeks  coloured  quickly  as  she  replied  with  a 
hasty  voice ;  •  0  no,  Dr.  Whitaker ;  I  didn't  moan  that — 
indeed,  I  didn't.    It's  very  kind  of  you  to  think  of  putting 

•  s 


84 


JN  ALL  8HADBB 


my  name  to  your  beautiful  music.  If  yon  look  at  li  Uiat 
way,  I  shall  ask  you  as  a  personal  favour  to  print  that  very 
dedication  upon  it  when  you  get  it  published  m  London.* 

Dr.  Whitaker's  eye  lighted  up  with  unexpected  plea- 
sure, and  he  answered :  '  Thank  you,'  slowly  and  softly. 
But  Nora  said  to  herself  in  her  own  heart :  '  Goodnesa 
gracious,  now,  just  out  of  politeness  to  this  clever  brown 
man,  and  because  I  hadn't  strength  of  mind  to  say  no  to 
him,  I've  gone  and  put  my  foot  in  it  terribly.  What  on  earth 
will  papa  say  about  it  when  he  comes  to  hear  of  it  1  I 
must  try  and  keep  the  piece  away  from  him.  That  is  the 
sort  of  thing  that's  sure  to  happen  to  one  when  one  onoe 
begins  knowing  brown  people  1 ' 


CHAPTER  XL 

On  the  morning  when  the  Severn  was  to  reach  Trinidad, 
everybody  was  up  betimes  and  eagerly  looking  for  the 
expected  land.  Nora  and  Marian  weni*  up  on  deck  before 
breakfast,  and  there  found  Dr.  Whitaker,  opera-glass  in 
himd,  scanning  the  horizon  for  the  first  sight  of  his  native 
island.  '  I  haven't  seen  it  or  my  dear  father,'  he  said  to 
Marian,  *  for  nearly  ten  years,  and  I  can't  tell  you  how 
anxious  I  am  once  more  to  see  him.  I  wonder  whether 
he'll  have  altered  much  I  But  there — ten  years  is  a  long 
time.  After  ten  years,  one's  pictures  of  home  and  friends 
begin  to  get  terribly  indefinite.  Still,  I  shall  know  him — 
I'm  sure  I  shall  know  him.  He'll  be  on  the  wharf  to  wel- 
come us  in,  and  I'm  sure  I  shall  reoogni&e  his  dear  old  face 
again.' 

'  Your  father's  very  well  known  in  the  island,  the 
captain  tells  me,'  Marian  said,  anxious  to  show  some 
interest  in  what  interested  him  so  much.  '  I  beheve  he 
was  very  influential  in  helping  to  get  slavery  aboHshed.' 

•He  was,'  the  young  doctor  answered,  kindling  up 
afresh  with  his  ever-ready  enthusiasm — •  he  was  ;  very  in- 
fluential. Mr.  Wilborforce  considered  that  my  father, 
Bobert  Whitaker,  was  one  of  his  most  powerful  coloured 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


86 


Bupporters  in  any  of  the  colonies.  I'm  proud  of  my  father, 
Mrs.  Hawthorn — proud  of  the  part  he  bore  in  the  great 
revolution  which  freed  my  race.  I'm  proud  to  think  that 
I'm  the  son  of  such  a  man  as  Robert  Whitaker.* 

•Now,  then,  ladies,'  the  captain  put  in  dryly,  coming 
upon  them  suddenly  from  behind ;  *  breakfast's  ready,  and 
you  won't  sight  Trinidad,  I  take  it,  for  at  least  another 
fifty  minutes.  Plenty  of  time  to  get  your  breakfast  quietly 
and  comfortably,  and  pack  your  traps  up,  before  you  come 
in  sight  of  the  Port-o'- Spain  lighthouse.' 

After  breakfast,  they  all  hurried  up  on  deck  once  more, 
and  soon  the  grey  peaks  and  rocky  sierras  of  Trinidad 
began  to  heave  in  sight  straight  in  front  of  them.  Slowly 
the  land  grew  closer  and  closer,  till  at  last  the  port  and 
town  lay  full  in  sight  before  them.  Dr.  Whitaker  was 
overflowing  with  excitement  as  they  reached  the  whart. 
'  In  ten  minutes,'  he  cried  to  Marian — *in  ten  minutes,  I 
shall  see  my  dear  father.' 

It  was  a  strange  and  motlev  scone,  ever  fresh  and 
interesting  to  the  new-comer  nom  Europe,  that  first 
glimpse  of  tropical  life  from  the  crowded  deck  of  an  ocean 
steamer.  The  Severn  stood  off,  waiting  for  the  gangways 
to  be  lowered  on  board,  but  close  up  to  the  high  wooden 
pier  of  the  lively,  bustling  little  harbour.  In  fr'ont  lay  the 
busy  wharf,  all  aUve  with  a  teeming  swarm  of  black  faces 
— men  in  light  and  ragged  jackets,  women  in  thin  white 
muslins  and  scarlet  turbans,  children  barefooted  and  half 
naked,  lying  sprawling  idly  in  the  very  eye  of  the  sun 
Behind,  white  houses  with  green  Venetian  blinds  ;  waving 
palm  trees;  tall  lulls;  a  blazing  pale  blue  sky;  a  great 
naze  of  hght  and  sliinnner  and  glare  and  fervour.  All 
round,  boats  full  of  noisy  negroes,  gesticulating,  jhouting 
swearing,  laughing,  and  showing  their  big  teeth  every 
second  anew  in  boisterous  nuu-riment.  A  general  pervad 
ing  sense  of  bustle  and  lifu,  all  meaningless  and  all  in- 
effectual ;  much  noise  and  little  labour ;  a  ceaseless 
chattering,  as  of  monkeys  in  a  memi'-rorie;  a  purposeless 
running  up  and  down  on  the  pier  uud  'longshore  with 
woiid^^'ful  gesticulations ;  a  babel  of  inarticulate  sounds 
and  cries  ard  shouting  and  giggling.     Nothing  of  it  all 


M  IN  ALL  SHADES 

dearly  tisible  as  an  indiyidiial  fact  at  first ;  only  a  oon> 
fused  mass  of  beads  and  faces  and  bandanas  and  dresses, 
out  of  which,  as  the  early  hubbub  of  arrival  subsided  a 
little,  there  stood  forth  prominently  a  single  foremost  figure 
— the  figure  of  a  big,  heavy,  oily,  fat,  dark  mulatto,  grey- 
haired  and  smooth-faced,  dressed  in  a  dirty  white  linen 
suit,  and  waving  his  soiled  silk  pocket  handkerchief  osten- 
tatiously before  the  eyes  of  the  assembled  passengers.  A 
supple,  vulgar,  oleaginous  man  altogether,  with  an  astonish- 
ing air  of  conceited  self-importance,  and  a  profound  con- 
sciousness of  the  admiring  eyes  of  the  whole  surrounding 
negropopulace. 

'  How  d'ye  do,  captain  ?  *  he  shouted  aloud  in  a  dear 
but  thick  &nd  slightly  negro  voice,  mouthing  his  words 
with  much  volubility  in  the  true  semi-articulate  Afirican 
fashion.  *  Glad  to  see  de  Severn  has  come  in  puncshual 
to  her  time  as  usual.  Good  ship,  de  Severn ;  neber  minds 
storms  or  nufiQn. — Well,  sah,  who  have  you  got  on  board? 
I've  come  down  to  meet  de  doctor  and  Mr.  Hawtom. 
Trinidad  is  proud  to  welcome  back  her  children  to  her 
shores  agin.  Got  'em  on  board,  captain? — got  'em  on 
board,  sah  ?  * 

'  All  right,  Bobby,'  the  captain  answered,  with  easy 
familiarity.  'Been  having  a  pull  at  the  mainsheet  this 
morning  ? — Ah,  I  thought  so.  I  thought  you'd  taken  a 
cargo  of  rum  aboard.  Ah,  you  sly  dog  I  You've  got  the 
look  of  it.' 

'Massa  Bobby,  him  don't  let  de  rum  spile  in  him 
cellar,'  a  ragged  fat  negress  standing  by  shouted  out  in  a 
stentorian  voice.  'Him  know  de  way  to  keep  him  from 
spilin',  so  pour  him  down  him  own  treat  in  time— eh,  Massa 
Bobby?' 

*  Bum,'  the  oily  mulatto  responded  cheerfully,  but  with 
great  dignity,  raising  his  fat  brown  hand  impressively 
before  him — *  rum  is  de  staple  produck  an'  chief  commer- 
cial commoditv  of  de  great  and  flourishin'  island  of  Trini- 
dad. To  drink  a  moderate  quantity  of  rum  every  momin' 
before  brekfuss  is  de  best  way  of  encourn^in'  de  principal 
uumufacture  of  dia  islmid.  I  do  my  duty  in  dat  respeck,  I 
flatter  myself,  as  faithlully  as  any  pussou  in  de  whole  of 


IK  ALL  SITADTSS  91 

Trinidad,  not  exceptin*  His  Excellency  de  Governor,  who 
onght  to  set  de  best  example  to  de  entire  community.  As 
de  recognised  representative  of  de  coloured  people  of  dis 
colony,  I  feel  bound  to  teach  dem  to  encourage  de  manu- 
facture  of  rum  by  my  own  pussonal  example  an'  earnest 
endeavour.'  And  he  threw  back  his  greasy  neck  playfully 
in  a  pantomimic  representation  of  the  act  of  drinlang  o£f  a 
good  glassful  of  rnm-and- water. 

The  negroes  behind  laughed  immoderately  at  this  sally 
of  the  man  addressed  as  Bobby,  and  cheered  him  on  with 
loud  vociferations.  'Evidently/  Edward  said  to  Ncia, 
with  a  face  of  some  disgust,  '  this  creature  is  the  chartered 
ba£Foon  and  chief  jester  to  the  whole  of  Trinidad.  They 
all  seem  to  recognise  him  and  laugh  at  him,  and  I  see  even 
the  captain  himself  knows  him  well  of  old,  evidently.' 

'  Bless  your  soul,  yes,'  the  captain  said,  overheanrg 
the  remark.  'Everybody  in  the  island  knows  Bobby. 
Good-natured  old  man,  but  conceited  as  a  peacock,  and 
foolish  too.— Everybody  knows  you  here,'  raising  his  voice, 

•  don't  they,  Bobby  ? ' 

The  grey-haired  mulatto  took  off  his  broad-brimmed 
Panama  hat  and  bowed  profoundly.  'I  flatter  myself,' 
he  said,  looking  round  about  him  complacently  on  the 
crowd  of  negroes,  'der  isn't  a  better  known  man  in  de 
whole  great  and  flourishin'  island  of  Trinidad  dan  Bo?)by 
Whitaker.' 

Edward  and  Marian  started  suddenly,  and  even  Nora 
gave  a  little  shiver  of  surprise  and  disappointment. 
'  Whitaker,' Edward  repeated  slowlv — '  Whitaker— Bobby 
Whitaker  I —You  don't  mean  to  tnll  us,  surely,  oaptiiiii, 
that  that  man's  our  Dr.  Whitaker's  father  I ' 

'Yes,  I  do,'  the  captain  answered.,  smiling  grii  .ly. 

*  That's  his  father. — Dr.  Whitaker  I  hi,  you,  sir ;  where 
have  you  got  to  ?    Don't  you  see  ? — there's  your  father.' 

Edward  turned  at  once  to  seek  for  him,  mil  of  a  sudden 
unspoken  compassion.  He  Iiad  not  far  to  seek.  A  little 
way  off,  standing  irresolutely  by  the  gunwale,  with  a 
strange  terrified  look  in  his  handsome  large  eyes,  and  a 
paLofal  twitching  nervously  evident  at  the  trembling 
comers  of  his  fall  mouth,  Dr.  Whitaker  gazed  intently 


Dt 


IN  ALL  8BADES 


-. 


and  Bpeechlesfllj  at  the  fat  mulatto  iu  the  white  linen  suit. 
It  was  clear  that  the  old  man  did  not  yet  recognise  his 
son ;  but  the  son  had  recognised  his  father  instantaneously 
and  unhesitatingly,  as  he  stood  there  playing  the  buffoon 
in  broad  daylight  before  the  whole  assembled  ship's  com- 
pany. Edward  locked  at  the  poor  young  fellow  with  pro- 
found commiseration.  Never  in  his  life  before  had  he 
seen  shame  and  humiliation  more  legibly  written  on  a 
man's  very  limbs  and  features.  The  unhappy  young 
mulatto,  thunderstruck  by  the  blow,  had  collapsed  entirely. 
It  was  too  terrible  for  him.  Coming  in,  fresh  from  his 
English  education,  full  of  youthful  hopes  and  vivid  enthu- 
siasms, proud  of  the  father  he  had  more  than  half  for- 
gotten, and  anxious  to  meet  once  more  that  ideal  picture 
he  had  carried  away  with  him  of  the  liberator  of  Trinidad 
— here  he  was  met,  on  the  very  threshold  of  his  native 
island,  by  this  horrible  living  contradiction  of  all  his  fer- 
vent fancies  and  imaginings.  The  Robert  Whitaker  he 
had  once  known  faded  away  as  if  by  magic  into  absolute 
nonentity,  and  that  voluble,  greasy,  self-satisfied,  buf- 
foonish  old  brown  man  was  the  only  thing  left  that  be 
could  now  possibly  call  '  my  father.' 

Edward  pitied  him  far  too  earnestly  to  obtrude  just 
then  upon  his  shame  and  sorrow.  But  the  poor  mulatto, 
meeting  his  eyes  accidentally  for  a  single  second,  turned 
upon  him  such  a  mutely  appealing  look  of  profound 
anguish,  that  Edward  moved  over  slowly  toward  the 
grim  captain  and  whispered  to  him  in  a  low  undertone : 
'  Don't  speak  to  that  man  Whitaker  again,  I  beg  of  you. 
Don't  you  see  his  poor  son  there's  dying  of  shame  for 
him?* 

The  captain  stared  back  at  him  with  the  same  curious 
half-sardonic  look  that  Marian  had  more  than  once 
noticed  upon  his  impassive  features.  '  Dying  of  shame  1 ' 
he  answered,  smiling  carelessly.  '  Ho,  ho,  ho  I  that's  a 
good  one  I  Dying  of  shame  is  he,  for  poor  old  Bobby  i 
Why,  sooner  or  later,  you  know,  he'll  have  to  get  used  to 
him.  Besides,  I  tell  you,  whether  you  talk  to  him  or 
whether  you  don't,  old  Bobby  '11  go  on  talking  about  him- 
self as  long  as  there's  anybody  left  anywhere  about  who'U 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


S9 


stand  and  listen  to  him. — You  just  hark  there  to  what  he's 
saying  now.     What's  he  up  to  next,  I  wonder  ?  * 

'  Yes,  ladies  and  gentlemen,'  the  old  mulatto  was  pro- 
ceeding aloud,  addressing  now  in  a  set  speech  the  laughing 
passengers  on  board  the  Severn,  *  I'm  de  Honourable 
Robert  Whitakcr,  commonly  called  Bobby  Whitaker,  de 
leadin'  member  of  de  coloured  party  in  dis  ibiand.  Along 
wit  my  lamented  friend  Mr.  Wilberforce,  an'  de  British 
Parliament,  I  was  de  chief  instrument  in  i)rocurin'  de 
abolition  of  slavery  an'  de  freedom  of  de  sla  liou^hout 
de  whole  English  possessions.  Millions  of  m>  fellow-men 
were  moanin'  an'  groanin'  in  a  painful  bondage.  I  have  a 
heart  dat  cannot  witstand  de  appeal  of  misery.  I  laboured 
for  dem ;  I  toiled  for  dem ;  I  bore  de  brunt  of  de  battle  ; 
an'  in  de  end  I  conquered — I  conquered.  Wit  de  aid  of 
my  friend  Mr.  Wilberforce,  by  superhuman  exertions,  I 
succeeded  in  passin'  de  grand  act  of  slavery  emancipation. 
You  behold  in  me  de  leadin'  actor  in  dat  famous  great  an* 
impressive  drama.  I'm  an  ole  man  now ;  but  I  have  pros- 
pered in  dis  world,  as  de  just  always  do,  says  de  Psalmist, 
an'  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  any  of  you  whenever  you  choose 
at  my  own  residence,  an'  to  ofifer  to  you  in  confidence  a 
glass  of  de  excellent  staple  produck  of  dis  island — I  allude 
to  de  wine  of  de  country,  de  admirable  beverage  known  as 
rum ! ' 

There  was  another  peal  of  foohsh  laughter  from  the 
crowd  of  negroes  at  this  one  ancient  threadbare  joke,  and 
a  faint  titter  from  the  sillier  passengers  on  board  the 
Severn.  Edward  looked  over  appcalingly  at  the  old 
buffoon  ;  but  the  mulatto  misunderstood  his  look  of  depre- 
cation, and  bowed  once  more  profoundly,  with  immense 
importance,  straight  at  him,  hke  a  sovereign  acknowledging 
the  plaudits  of  his  subjects. 

'  Yes,'  he  continued,  '  I  shall  be  happy  to  see  any  of 
you — you,  sah,  or  you — at  my  own  estate,  Whitaker  Hall, 
m  dis  island,  whenever  you  find  it  convenient  to  visit  me. 
You  have  on  board  my  son.  Dr.  Whitaker,  de  future  leader 
of  de  coloured  party  m  de  Council  of  Trinidad ;  an'  you 
have  no  doubt  succeeded  in  makin'  his  acquaintance  in  de 
eourse  of  your  voyage  iroui  de  shores  of  England.    Dr. 


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IN  ALL  SHADES 


Whitaker,of  de  University  of  Edinburgh,  after  porsnbi* 
his  stttdieo        * 

The  poor  young  man  gave  an  audible  groan,  and  turned 
away,  in  his  poignant  disgrace,  to  the  very  farthest  end  of 
the  vessel.  It  was  terrible  enough  to  have  all  his  hopes 
dashed  and  falsified  in  this  awful  fashion;  but  to  be 
humiliated  and  shamed  by  name  before  the  staring  eyes  of 
all  his  fellow-passengers — that  last  straw  was  more  than 
his  poor  burstmg  heart  could  possibly  endure.  He  walked 
away,  broken  and  tottering,  and  leaned  over  the  opposite 
side  of  the  vessel,  letting  the  hot  tears  trickle  um^eproved 
down  his  dusky  cheeks  into  the  ocean  below. 

At  that  very  moment,  before  the  man  they  called  Bobby 
Whitaker  could  finish  his  sentence,  a  tall  white  man,  of 
handsome  and  imposing  presence,  walked  out  quietly  from 
among  the  knot  of  people  behind  the  negroes,  and  laid  his 
hand  with  a  commanding  air  on  the  fat  old  mulatto's  broad 
shoulder.  Bobby  Whitaker  turned  round  suddenly  and 
hstened  with  attention  to  something  that  the  white  man 
whispered  gently  but  firmly  at  his  astonished  ear.  Then 
his  lower  jat/  dropped  in  surprise,  and  he  fell  behind. 
abashed  for  a  second,  into  the  confused  background  of 
laughing  negroes.  Partly  from  his  childish  recollections, 
but  partly,  too,  by  the  aid  of  the  photographs,  Edward 
immediately  recognised  the  tall  white  man.  'Marian, 
Marian ! '  he  cried,  waving  his  hand  in  welcome  towards 
the  new-comer, '  it's  mv  tiather,  my  father  1 ' 

And  even  as  he  spoke,  a  pang  of  pain  ran  through  him 
as  he  thought  of  the  di£ference  between  the  first  two  greet- 
ings. He  couldn't  help  feeling  proud  in  his  heart  of  hearts 
of  the  verv  look  and  bearing  of  his  own  father — tall,  erect, 
with  his  handsome,  clear-cut  face  and  full  white  beard, 
the  exact  type  of  a  seli-respecting  and  respected  English 
gentleman ;  and  vet,  the  mere  refiez  of  his  own  pride  and 
satisfaction  revealed  to  him  at  once  the  bitter  poignancy  of 
Dr.  Whitaker's  unspeakable  disappointment.  As  the  two 
men  stood  there  on  the  wharf  side  by  side,  in  quiet  con- 
versation, James  Hawthorn  with  his  grave,  severe,  earnest 
expression,  and  Bobby  Whitaker  with  his  greasy,  vulgar, 
negro  joviality  speaking  out  from  every  crease  in  hii  f»i 


m  ALL  8BADSB 


n 


chin  and  eyery  sparkle  of  his  smaU  pig*8  eyes,  the  oontrast 
between  them  was  so  vast  and  so  apparent,  that  it  seemed 
to  make  the  old  mulatto's  natural  vulgarity  and  coarseness 
of  fibre  more  obvious  and  more  unmistakable  than  ever  to 
all  beholders. 

In  a  minute  more,  a  gangway  was  hastily  lowered  from 
the  wharf  on  to  the  deck ;  and  the  first  man  that  came 
down  it,  pushed  in  front  of  a  great  crowd  of  eager, 
^[Tinning,  and  elbowing  negroes — ^mostly  in  search  of  small 
jobs  among  the  passengers — was  Bobby  Whitaker.  The 
moment  he  reached  the  deck,  he  seemed  to  take  possession 
of  it  and  of  all  the  passengers  by  pure  instinct,  as  if  he 
were  fitther  to  the  whole  shipload  of  them.  The  captain, 
the  crew,  and  the  other  authorities  were  effaced  instantly. 
Bobby  Whitaker,  with  easy,  greasy  geniality,  stood  bowing 
and  waving  his  hand  on  every  side,  in  an  access  of  universal 
graciousness  towards  the  entire  company.  *  My  son ! '  he 
said,  looking  round  him  inquiringly — 'my  son.  Dr. 
Whitaker,  of  de  Edinburgh  University — ^where  is  he? — 
where  is  he  ?  My  dear  boy  I  Let  him  come  forward  and 
embrace  his  fader  I  * 

Dr.  Whitaker,  in  spite  of  his  humiliation,  had  all  a 
a  mulatto's  impulsive  affectionateness.  Ashamed  and 
abashed  as  he  was,  he  yet  rushed  forward  with  unaffected 
emotion  to  take  his  father's  outstretched  hand.  But  old 
Bobby  had  no  idea  of  getting  over  this  important  meeting 
in  such  a  simple  and  undemonstrative  manner ;  for  him, 
it  was  a  magnificent  opportunitv  for  theatrical  display,  on 
no  account  to  be  thrown  away  before  the  faces  of  so  many 
distinguished  European  stran^^ers.  Holding  his  son  for  a 
second  at  arm's  length,  in  the  centre  "^f  a  little  circle  tliat 
quickly  gathered  around  the  oddly-mutched  pair,  he  sur- 
veyed the  young  doctor  with  a  piercing  glance  from  head 
to  foot,  sticking  his  neck  a  little  on  one  side  with  critical 
severity,  and  then,  bursting  into  a  broad  grin  of  oily  de- 
light, he  exclaimed,  in  a  loud  stagey  soliloquy :  *  My  son,  my 
son,  my  own  dear  son,  Wilberforce  Olarkson  Whitaker  I  De 
inheritor  of  de  tree  names  most  intimately  bound  up  wit  de 
great  revolution  I  have  had  de  pride  and  de  honour  of 
effectin*  for   onbom  millions  of  my  African  bredderinu 


W  IN  ALL  SHADES 

My  son,  my  son  I  We  receive  you  wit  transport !  Welcome 
to  Trinidad — welcome  to  Trimdad  ! ' 

*  Patlier,  father,'  Dr.  Whitaker  whispered  in  a  low 
▼oice,  'let  us  go  aside  a  little — down  into  my  cabin  or 
somewhere— away  from  this  crowd  here.  I  am  so  glad,  so 
happy  to  be  back  with  you  again ;  so  delighted  to  be  home 
once  more,  dear,  dear  father.  But  don't  you  see,  everybody 
is  looking  at  us  and  observing  us  I ' 

The  old  mulatto  glanced  around  hixn  with  an  oily 
glance  of  profound  self-satisfaction.  Yes,  andoubtedly ; 
he  was  the  exact  centre  of  an  admiring  audience.  It  was 
just  such  a  house  as  he  loved  to  play  to.  He  turned  once 
more  to  his  trembling  son,  whose  sturdy  knees  were  almost 
giving  waj  feebly  beneath  him,  and  redoubled  the  ardour 
of  his  paiemU  demonstrativeness.  '  My  son,  my  son,  my 
own  dear  boy  I '  he  said  once  more ;  and  then,  stepping 
back  two  paces  and  opening  his  arms  effusively,  he  ran 
forward  quickly  with  short  mincing  steps,  and  pressed  the 
astonished  doctor  with  profound  warmth  to  his  swelling 
bosom.  There  was  an  expansiveness  and  a  gushing  effusion 
about  the  action  which  made  the  spectators  titter  audibly ; 
and  the  titter  cut  the  poor  young  mulatto  keenly  to  the 
heart  with  a  sense  of  his  utter  helplessness  and  ridiculous- 
ness in  this  absurd  situation.  He  wondered  to  himseli 
when  the  humiliating  scene  would  ever  be  finished.  But 
the  old  man  was  not  satisfied  yet.  Releasing  his  son  once 
more  from  his  fat  grasp,  he  placed  his  two  big  hands 
akimbo  on  his  hips,  puckered  up  his  eyebrows  as  if  search- 
ing for  some  possiblo  flaw  in  a  horse  or  in  a  woman's  figure 
—he  was  a  noted  connoisseur  in  either — and  held  his  head 
pushed  jauntily  forward,  staring  once  more  at  his  son 
with  his  small  pig's  eyes  from  top  to  toe.  At  last,  satisfied 
apparently  with  his  close  scrutiny,  and  prepared  to  ac- 
knowledge that  it  was  all  very  good,  he  seized  the  young 
doctor  quickly  by  the  shoulders,  and  kissing  him  with  a 
loud  smack  on  either  cheek,  proceeded  to  slobber  him 
piecemeal  all  over  the  face,  exactly  like  a  nine-months-old 
baby.  Dr.  Whitaker's  cheeks  tingled  and  burned,  so  that 
even  through  that  dusky  skin,  Edward,  who  stood  a  little 
distance  off,  commiserating  him,  could  see  the  hot  blood 


127  ALL  SHADES  M 

rnsliing  to  his  face  by  the  deepened  and  darlcened  eoloor 
in  the  very  centre. 

Presently  old  Bobby  seemed  to  be  Bnfficiently  sated 
with  this  particular  form  of  theatrical  entertainment,  and 
turned  round  presently  to  the  remainder  of  the  company. 

*  My  son,'  he  said,  not  without  a  real  touch  of  heartfelt, 
paternal  pride,  as  he  glanced  towards  the  gentlemanly- 
looking  and  well-drepsed  young  doctor,  *  your  fellow-pas- 
sengers !  Introduce  me  I  Which  is  de  son  of  my  ole  and 
valued  friend,  de  Honourable  James  Hawtom,  of  Wag- 
water  ? ' 

Dr.  Whitaker,  glad  to  divert  attention  from  himself  on 
ttny  excuse,  waved  his  hand  quietly  towards  Edward. 

*  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Whitaker  ? '  Edward  said,  in  as 
low  and  quiet  a  tone  as  possible,  anxious  as  he  was  to  dis- 
appoint the  little  gaping  crowd  of  amused  spectators.  *  We 
have  all  derived  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  from  your  son's 
society  on  our  way  across.  His  music  has  been  the  staple 
entertainment  of  the  whole  voyage.  We  have  appreciated 
it  immensely.' 

But  old  Bobby  was  not  to  be  put  off  with  private  con- 
versation aside  in  a  gentle  undertone.  He  was  accustomed 
to  living  his  life  in  public,  and  he  wasn't  going  to  be 
balked  of  his  wonted  entertainment.  '  Yes,  ^Ir.  Haw- 
torn,'  he  answered  in  a  loud  voice,  *  you  are  right,  sah. 
De  taste  for  music,  an'  de  taste  for  beauty  in  de  ladies  are 
two  tastes  dat  are  seldom  wantin'  to  de  sons  or  de  graiid- 
sons  of  Africa,  however  far  removed  from  de  original 
negro.'  (As  he  spoke,  he  glanced  back  with  a  touch  of 
contempt  and  an  infinite  superiority  of  manner  at  the 
pure-blooded  blacks,  who  were  now  busily  engaged  in  piok- 
mg  up  portmanteaus  from  the  deck,  and  squabbling  with 
one  another  as  to  which  was  to  carry  the  buckras'  luggage. 
Your  mulatto,  however  dark,  always  in  a  good-humoured, 
tolerant  way,  utterly  despises  his  coal-black  brethren.) 

*  Bote  dose  tastes  are  highly  developed  in  my  own  pusson. 
But  no  doubt  my  son,  Wilberforce  Clarkson  Whitaker,  is 
liable  to  inherit  from  his  fader's  family.  In  de  exercise  of 
de  second,  I  cannot  faU  to  perceive  dat  dis  lady  beside  yoa 
must  be  Mrs.  Hawtom.    Sab ' — with  a  sidelong  leer  of  his 


M  IN  ALL  SHADS 9 

&i  eyes — *  I  congratukte  yon  most  sincerely  on  your  OTvn 
taste  in  female  beauty.  A  very  nice,  fresh-lookm'  young 
lady,  Mrs.  Hawtom.* 

Marian's  face  grew  fiery  red ;  and  Edward  hardly  knew 
whether  to  laugh  off  the  awkward  compliment,  or  to  draw 
himself  up  and  stroll  away,  as  though  the  conversation 
had  reached  its  natural  ending. 

*  And  de  odder  young  lady,*  Bobby  went  on,  quite  un- 
oonscioas  of  the  effect  he  had  produced — '  de  odder  young 
lady  9    Your  sister,  now,  or  Mrs.  Hawtorn's  ? ' 

'This  is  Miss  Dupuy,  of  Orange  Grove,'  Edward 
answered  hesitatingly;  for  he  hardly  knew  what  remark 
old  Bobby  might  next  venture  upon.  And,  indeed,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  old  mulatto's  ccnversation,  even  in  the 
presence  of  ladies,  was  not  at  all  times  restrained  by  all 
those  artificial  rules  of  deccrum  imposed  on  most  of  us 
by  what  appeared  to  him  a  ridiculously  straitlaced  and 
puritanical  white  conveiaticnality. 

But  Edward's  answer  seemed  to  have  an  extraordinary 
effect  in  sobering  and  toning  down  the  old  man's  exuberant 
volubility;  he  pulled  off  his  hat  with  a  respectful  bow, 
and  said  in  a  lower  and  more  polite  voice:  'I  have  do 
honour  of  knowing  Miss  Dupuy's  fader;  I  am  proud  to 
make  Miss  Dupuy's  acquaintance.' 

*  Here,  Bobby  I '  the  captain  called  out  from  a  little 
forward — '  you  come  here,  say.  The  first  officer  wants  to 
introduce  yon ' — with  a  wink  at  Edward — 'to  His  Excel- 
lency the  Peruvian  ambassador. — Look  here,  Mr.  Haw- 
thorn ;  don't  you  let  Bobby  talk  too  long  to  your  ladies, 
sir.  He  sometimes  blurts  out  something,  yon  know,  that 
ladies  ain't  exactly  accustomed  to.  We  seafaring  men  are 
a  bit  rough  on  occasion  ourselves,  certainly ;  but  we  know 
how  to  behave  for  all  that  before  the  women.  Bobby 
don't ;  you'd  better  be  careful.' 

*  Thank  you,'  Edward  said,  and  again  felt  his  heart 
smitten  with  a  sort  of  remorse  for  poor  Dr.  Whitaker. 
That  quick,  sensitive,  enthusiastic  young  man  to  be  tied 
down  for  life  to  such  a  father  1  It  was  too  terrible.  In  fact, 
it  was  a  tragedy. 

'Splendid  take-down  for  that  stnek-ap  yonng  browa 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


U 


doctor/  the  EngliBli  cfBcer  exclaimed  aside  in  a  whisper  to 
Edward.  '  Shake  a  httle  of  the  confounded  conceit  out  of 
him,  I  should  say.  He  wanted  taking  down  a  peg. — Scream* 
ing  farce,  isn't  he,  the  old  father  ? ' 

*  I  never  saw  a  more  pitiable  or  pitiful  scene  in  my 
whole  life,'  Edward  answered  earnestly.  *  Poor  fellow, 
I'm  profoundly  sorry  for  him ;  he  looks  absolutely  broken- 
hearted.' 

The  young  officer  gazed  at  him  in  mute  astonishment. 
'  Can't  see  a  joke,  that  fellow  Hawthorn,'  he  thought  to 
himself.  '  Had  all  the  fun  worked  out  of  him,  I  supnose, 
over  there  at  Cambridge.  Awful  prig  I  Quite  devoid  of  the 
sense  of  humour.  Sorry  for  his  poor  wife ;  she'll  have  a 
dull  life  of  it. — Never  saw  such  an  amusing  old  fool  in  all 
my  days  as  that  ridiculous,  fat  old  nigger  fellow  I ' 

Meanwhile,  James  Hawthorn  had  been  standing  on  the 
wharf,  waiting  for  the  first  crush  of  negroes  and  hangers- 
on  to  work  itself  ofif,  and  looking  for  an  easy  opportunity 
to  come  aboard  in  order  to  meet  his  son  and  daughter. 
By-and-by  the  crush  subsided,  and  the  old  man  stepped  on 
to  the  gangway  and  made  his  way  down  upon  the  deck. 

In  a  moment,  Edward  was  wringing  his  hand  fervently, 
and  father  and  sen  had  exchanged  one  single  kiss  of  recog- 
nition in  that  half-shamefaced,  hasty  felshicn  in  which 
men  of  our  race  usually  get  through  that  very  nn-EngUeh 
ceremonv  of  greeting. 

*  Father,  father,'  Edward  said,  *  I  am  so  thankful  to  see 
yon  once  more  ;  so  anxious  to  see  my  dear  mother.' 

There  were  tears  standing  in  both  their  e^es  as  his 
father  answered:  'My  boy,  my  boyl  I've  denied  myself 
this  pleasure  for  years ;  and  now — now  it's  come,  it's  almost 
too  much  for  me.' 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  and  then  Mr.  Hawthorn 
turned  to  Marian.  *  My  daughter,'  he  said,  kissing  her 
with  a  fatherly  kiss, '  we  know  vou,  and  love  you  alreedy, 
from  Edward's  letters ;  ar\d  we'll  do  cor  best,  as  far  as  we 
can,  to  make  you  happy.' 

There  was  anotherpause,  and  then  the  father  said  again : 
•  You  didn't  get  my  telegram,  Edward  ? ' 

*  Yes,  father,  I  got  it ;  bat  not  till  we  were  on  the  very 


96 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


t 


i 


I" 
i,  .   1 


point  of  starting.  The  steamer  was  actually  under  weigh« 
and  we  couldn't  have  stopped  even  if  we  had  wished  to. 
There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  come  on  as  we  were,  in 
spite  of  it.' 

*  Oh,  Mr.  Hawthorn,  there's  papa  J '  Nora  cried  ex- 
citedly. •  There  he  is,  coming  down  the  gangway.'  And 
as  she  spoke,  Mr.  Dupuy's  portly  form  was  seen  advancing 
towards  them  with  slow  deliberateness. 

For  a  second,  he  gazed  about  hi"^  curiously,  looking 
for  Nora  ;  then,  as  he  saw  her,  he  walked  over  towards  her 
in  his  leisurely,  dawdling,  West  Indian  fashion,  Nora 
darted  forward  and  flung  her  arms  impulsively  around  him. 
*  So  you've  come,  Nora,'  the  old  gentleman  said  quietly, 
disembarrassing  himself  with  elephantine  gracefulness 
from  her  close  embrace — '  so  you've  come,  after  all,  in  spite 
of  my  telegram  ! — How  was  this,  my  dear  ?  How  was  tliis, 
tell  me?' 

'  Yes,  papa,'  Nora  answered,  a  little  abashed  at  his 
serene  manner.  *  The  telegram  was  too  late — it  was 
thrown  on  board  after  wo'd  started.  But  we've  got  out  all 
safe,  you  see. — And  Marian — you  know — Marian  Ord — ]\lrs. 
Hiwwthorn  that  is  now — she's  taken  great  care  of  me  :  and, 
except  for  the  hurricane,  we've  had  such  a  delightful 
voyafije !  * 

Mr.  Dupuy  drew  himself  up  to  his  stateliest  eminence 
and  looked  straight  across  at  Llarian  Hawthorn  with  stiff 
politeness.  *  I  didn't  know  it  was  to  Mrs.  Hawthorn,  I'm 
sure,'  he  said,  *  thai.  I  was  to  be  indebted  for  your  safe 
arrival  here  in  Trinidad.  It  was  very  good  of  Mrs.  Haw- 
thorn, I  don't  doubt,  to  bring  you  out  to  us  and  act  as  your 
chaperon.  I  am  much  obliged  to  Mrs.  Hawthorn  for  her 
kind  attention  and  care  of  you  on  the  voyage.  I  must 
thank  Mrs.  Hawthorn  very  sincerely  for  the  trouble  she 
may  have  been  put  to  on  your  account.  Good  morning, 
Mrs.  Hawthorn. — Good  morning,  Mr.  Hawthorn.  Your 
son,  I  suppose  ?  Ah,  so  I  imagined.  Good  morning, 
good  morning.'  He  raised  his  hat  with  formal  courtesy  to 
Marian,  and  bowed  slightly  to  the  son  and  father.  Then 
he  Urew  Nora's  arm  carefully  in  his,  and  was  just  about  to 
walk  her  immediately  off  the  steamer,  when  Nora  burst 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


tr 


from  him  in  the  utmost  amazement  and  rushed  np  to  kiss 
Marian. 

*  Papa,'  she  cried,  *  I  don't  think  you  understand.  This 
is  Marian  Ord,  don't  you  know  ?  General  Ord's  daughter, 
that  I've  wr 'tten  to  you  about  so  often.  She's  my  dearest 
friend,  and  now  she's  married  to  Mr.  Edward  Hawthorn — 
this  is  he — and  Aunt  Harriet  gave  me  in  charge  to  her  to 
come  across  with ;  and  I  rriTist  just  say  good-bye  to  her 
before  I  leave  her. — Thank  you,  dear,  thank  you  both  so 
much  for  all  your  kindness.  Not,  of  course,  that  it  matters 
about  saying  good-bye  to  you,  for  you  and  we  will  be  such 
very,  very  near  neighbours,  and  of  course  we  will  see  a 
great  deal  of  one  another. — Won't  we,  papa  ?  We  shall  be 
near  neighbours,  and  see  a  great  deal  of  Marian  always, 
now  she's  come  here  to  live — won't  we  ? ' 

Mr.  Dupuy  bowed  again  very  stiffly.  *  We  shall  be  very 
near  neighbours,  undoubtedly,'  he  answered  with  unruffled 
politeness  ;  and  I  shall  hope  to  take  an  early  opportunity 
of  paying  my  respects  to — to  your  friend.  General  Ord'fl 
daughter. — I  am  much  obliged,  once  more,  to  Mrs.  Haw- 
thorn for  her  well-meant  attentions.  Good  morning. — This 
way,  Nora,  my  dear.  This  way  to  the  Orange  Grove 
carriage.* 

*  Father,*  Edward  exclaimpl,  in  doubt  and  dismay, 
looking  straight  down  into  bis  father's  eyes,  *  what  does  it 
aU  mean  ?  Explain  it  all  to  us.  I'm  utterly  bewildered. 
Why  did  you  telegraph  to  us  not  to  come  ?  And  why  did  Nora 
Dupuy's  father  telegraph  to  her,  too,  an  identical  message  ?' 

Mr.  Hawthorn  drew  a  deep  breath  and  looked  back  at 
him  with  a  face  full  of  consternation  and  pity.  *  He  tele- 
graphed to  her,  too,  did  he  ? '  he  muttered  half  to  himself 
in  slow  reflection.  '  He  telegraphed  to  prevent  her  from 
coming  out  in  the  Severn  I  I  might  have  guessed  as  much 
— it's  very  like  him. — My  boy,  my  boy — and  my  dear 
daughter — this  is  a  poor  welcome  for  you,  a  very  poor 
welcome  I  We  never  wanted  you  to  come  out  here ;  and 
if  we  could,  we  would  have  prevented  it.  But  now  that 
you've  come,  you've  come,  and  there's  no  helping  it.  We 
must  just  try  to  do  our  best  to  make  you  both  tolerably 
comfortable.* 


9t 


IN  ALL  GHADES 


Marian  stood  in  blauk  astonishment  and  silent  wonder 
at  this  strange  greeting.  A  thousand  vague  possibihties 
floated  instantaneously  through  her  mind,  to  be  dismissed 
the  next  second,  on  closer  consideration,  as  absolutely  im- 
possible. Why  on  earth  did  this  handsome,  dignified, 
courtly  old  gentleman  wish  to  keep  them  away  &om 
Trinidad  ?  He  wasn't  poor ;  he  wasn't  uneducated ;  he 
wasn't  without  honour  in  his  own  country.  That  he  was 
a  gentleman  to  the  backbone,  she  could  see  and  feel  the 
moment  she  looked  at  him  and  heard  him  speak.  What, 
then,  could  be  his  objection  to  his  son's  coming  out  to  visit 
him  in  his  own  surroundings  ?  Had  he  committed  some 
extraordinary  crime  ?  Was  he  an  ex-convict,  or  a  fraudu- 
lent bankrupt,  oi  a  defaulting  trustee  ?  Did  he  fear  tc  let 
his  son  discover  his  shame  ?  But  no.  The  bare  idea  was 
absolutely  impossible.  You  had  only  to  gaze  once  upon 
that  fine,  benevolent,  cleai'-cut,  transparently  truthful  face 
— as  transparently  truthful  as  Edward's  own — to  see  imme- 
diately that  James  Hawthorn  was  a  man  of  honour.  It 
was  an  insoluble  mystery,  and  Marian's  heart  sank  within 
her  as  she  wondered  to  herself  what  this  gloomy  welcome 
foreboded  for  the  future. 

•  Father,'  Edward  exclaimed,  looking  at  him  once  more 
with  appealing  eyes,  *do  explain  to  us  what  you  mean. 
Why  didn  t  you  want  us  to  come  to  Trinidad  ?  The  sus- 
pense is  too  terrible  I  We  shall  be  expecting  something 
woise  than  the  reahty.  Tell  us  now.  Whatever  it  is,  we 
are  strong  enough  to  bear  it.  I  know  it  can  be  nothing 
mean  or  dishonourable  that  you  have  to  conceal  from  as. 
For  Marian's  sake,  explain  it,  explain  it  I  * 

The  old  man  turned  his  face  away  with  a  bitter  gesture. 
'  My  boyj  my  boy,  my  poor  boy,*  he  answered  slowly  and 
remorsefully,  'I  cannot  tell  yen.  I  can  never  tell  yon. 
You  win  find  it  out  for  yourself  soon  enough.  Bat  I — ^I— 
I  can  never  teli  yon  I ' 


i 


:N  all  8HADEU 


99 


CHAPTER  XIL 

Edwabd  and  Marian  spent  tbuir  first  week  in  Trinidad 
with  the  Hawthorns  senior.  Mrs.  Hawthorn  was  IdndneBS 
itself  to  Marian :  a  dear,  gentle,  motherly  old  lady,  very 
proud  of  her  boy— especially  of  his  ability  to  read  Arabic, 
which  seemed  to  her  a  profundity  of  learning  never  yet 
dreamt  of  in  the  annals  of  humanity — and  immensely 
pleased  with  her  new  daughter-in-law :  but  nothing  on 
earth  that  Marian  could  say  to  her  would  induce  her  to 
unlock  the  mystery  of  that  alarming  telegram.  *  No,  no, 
my  dear,'  she  would  say,  shaking  her  head  gloomily  and 
wiping  her  spectacles,  whenever  Marian  recurred  to  the 
subject,  '  you'll  find  it  all  out  only  too  soon.  God  forbid, 
my  darling,  that  ever  I  should  break  it  to  you.  I  love  you 
far  too  well  for  that.  Marian,  Marian,  my  dear  daughter, 
you  should  never,  never,  never  have  come  hexe  I '  And 
then  she  would  burst  immediately  into  tears.  And  that 
was  all  that  poor  frightened  Marian  could  ever  get  out  of 
her  new  mother-in-law. 

All  that  firpt  week,  old  Mr.  Hawthorn  was  never  tired 
of  urging  upon  Edward  to  go  back  again  at  once  to  Eng- 
land. *  I  can  depart  in  peace  now,  my  boy,'  he  said ;  *  I 
have  seen  you  at  last,  and  known  you,  and  had  my  heart 
gladdened  by  vour  presence  here.  Indeed,  if  you  wish  it, 
I'd  rather  go  back  to  England  with  you  again,  than  that 
you  should  stay  in  this  unsuitable  Trinidad.  Wh^  bury 
your  talents  and  your  learning  here,  when  yon  might  be 
rising  to  fame  and  honour  over  in  London  ?  What's  the 
use  of  your  classical  knowledge  out  in  the  West  Indies  ? 
What's  the  use  of  your  Arabic  ?  What's  the  use  of  your 
law,  even  ?  We  have  nothing  to  try  here  but  petty  cases 
between  planter  and  servant ;  of  what  good  to  yon  in  that 
will  be  all  your  work  at  English  tenures  and  English  land 
laws  ?  You're  hiding  your  light  under  a  bushel.  You're 
putting  a  trotting  horse  into  a  hansom  cab.  You're  wasting 


100 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


ill 


your  Arabic  on  people  who  don't  even  kno\«  the  difference 
between  Greek  and  Latin.' 

To  all  which,  Edward  steadily  replied  that  he  wouldn't 
go  back  as  long  as  this  mystery  still  hung  unsolved  over 
him ;  and  that,  as  he  had  practically  made  an  agreement 
with  the  Colonial  Government,  it  would  be  dishonourable 
in  him  to  break  it  for  unknown  and  unspecified  reasons. 
As  soon  as  possible,  he  declared  firmly,  he  would  take  up 
his  abode  in  his  own  district. 

House-hunting  is  reduced  to  its  very  simplest  elements 
in  the  West  Indian  colonies.  There  is  one  house  in  each 
parish  or  county  which  has  been  inhabited  from  time  im- 
memorial by  one  functionary  for  the  time  being.  The  late 
Attorney- General  dies  of  yellow  fever,  or  drinks  himself  to 
death,  or  gets  promotion,  or  retires  to  England,  and  another 
Attorney-General  is  duly  appointed  by  constituted  authority 
in  his  vacant  place.  The  new  man  succeeds  naturally  to 
the  house  and  furniture  of  his  predecessor — as  naturally, 
indeed,  as  he  succeeds  to  any  of  his  other  functions,  offices, 
and  prerogatives.  Not  that  there  is  the  least  compulsion 
in  the  matter,  only  you  must.  As  there  is  no  other  house 
vacant  in  the  community,  and  as  nobody  ever  thinks  of 
building  a  new  one — except  when  the  old  one  tumbles 
down  by  efflux  of  time  or  shock  of  earthquake — the  only 
thing  left  for  one  to  do  is  to  live  in  the  place  immemorially 
occupied  by  all  one's  predecessors  in  the  same  office.  Hence 
it  happenr  ^  that  at  the  beginning  of  their  second  week  in 
the  island  of  Trinidad,  Marian  and  Edward  Hawthorn 
found  themselves  ensconced  with  hardly  any  trouble  in  the 
roomy  bungalow  known  as  Mulberry  Lodge,  and  here- 
ditarily attached  to  the  post  of  District  Court  Judge  for  the 
district  of  Westmoreland. 

Marian  laid  herself  out  at  once  for  callers,  and  very  soon 
the  callers  began  to  drop  in.  About  the  fourth  day  after 
they  had  settled  into  their  new  house,  she  was  sitting  in 
the  big,  bare,  tropical-looking  drawing-room — a  great, 
gaunt,  square  barn,  scantily  furnished  with  a  few  tables  and 
rocking-chairs  upon  the  carpetless  pohshed  floor — so  gaunt 
that  even  Marian's  deft  fingers  failed  to  make  it  at  first 
look  home-like  or  habitable — when  a  light  carriage  drew 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


101 


np  hastily  with  a  dash  at  the  front  door  of  the  low  htmgalow. 
The  young  bride  pulled  her  bows  sti  ai^'iit  quickly  at  the 
heavy,  old-fashioned  gilt  mirror,  and  waited  anxiously  to 
receive  the  expected  visitors.  It  was  her  first  appearance 
as  mistress  of  her  establishment.  In  a  minute,  Thomas, 
the  negro  butler — every  man-servant  is  a  butler  in  Trinidad, 
even  if  he  is  only  a  boy  of  twenty — ushered  the  new-comera 
pompously  into  the  bare  drawing-room.  Marian  took 
their  cards  and  glanced  at  them  hastily.  Two  gentlemen 
— the  Honourable  Colonial  Secretary,  and  the  Honourable 
Director  of  Irrigation. 

The  Colonial  Secretary  sidled  into  a  chair,  and  took  up 
his  parable  at  once  with  a  very  profuse  and  ponderous 
apology.  *  My  wife,  Mrs.  Hawthorn,  my  wife,  I'm  sorry 
to  say,  was  most  unfortunately  unable  to  accompany  me 
here  this  morning. — Charmingly  you've  laid  out  this  room, 
really ;  so  very  different  from  what  it  used  to  be  in  poor 
old  Macmurdo's  time. — Isn't  it.  Colonel  Daubeny  ? — Poor 
old  Macmurdo  died  in  the  late  yellow  fever,  you  know,  my 
dear  madam,  and  Mr.  Hawthorn  fills  his  vacancy.  Ex- 
cellent fellow,  poor  old  Macmurdo — ninth  judge  I've  known 
killed  off  by  yellow  fever  in  this  district  since  I've  been 
here. — My  wife,  I  was  saying,  when  your  charming  room 
compelled  me  to  digress,  is  far  from  well  at  present — a 
malady  of  the  country :  this  shocking  climate ;  or  else,  I'm 
sure,  she'd  have  been  delighted  to  call  upon  you  with 
me  this  morning.  The  loss  is  hers,  the  loss  is  hers, 
Mrs.  Hawthorn.  I  shall  certauily  tell  her  so.  Immensely 
sorry.' 

Colonel  Daubeny,  the  Honourable  Director  of  Irrigation, 
was  a  far  jauntier  and  more  easy-spoken  man.  '  And  Mrs. 
Daubeny,  my  dear  madam,'  he  said  with  a  fluent  manner 
that  Marian  found  exceedingly  distasteful,  'is  most  un- 
fortunately just  this  moment  down — with  toothache.  Un- 
common nasty  thing  to  be  down  with,  toothache.  A 
perfect  martyr  to  it.  She  begged  me  to  make  her  excuses. 
— Mr.  Hawthorn ' — to  Edward,  who  had  just  come  in — 
'  Mrs.  Daubeny  begged  me  to  make  her  excuses.  She  re- 
grets that  she  can't  call  to-day  on  Mrs.  Hawthorn.  Beauti 
ful  view  you  have,  upon  my  word,  £rom  your  front  piazza.' 


u» 


IN  ALL  8HALE8 


I 


'  It'B  the  same  view,  I've  no  doubt,'  Edward  answered 
Mverelv,  *  as  it  used  to  be  in  the  days  of  my  predecessor.' 

*  Eh  I  What  I  Ah,  bless  my  soul  I  Quite  so,*  Colonel 
Daubeny  answered,  dropping  his  eye-glass  from  his  e^re  in 
Bome  amazement. — *  Ha !  Devilish  good,  that — devilish 
good,  really,  Mr.  Hawthorn.' 

Marian  was  a  Uttle  surprised  that  Edward,  usually  so 
impassive,  should  so  unmistakably  snub  the  Colonel  at 
first  sight;  and  ybt  she  felt  there  was  something  very 
oifensive  in  the  man's  fomihar  manner,  that  made  the 
retort  perfectly  justifiable,  and  even  necessary. 

They  lingered  a  little  while,  talking  very  ordinary 
tropical  small-talk;  and  then  me  Colonel,  wim  an  ugly 
smile,  took  up  his  hat,  and  declared,  with  many  onneoes- 
Bory  asseverations,  t.hat  he  must  really  be  off  this  very 
minute.  Mrs.  Daubeny  would  so  much  regret  having  lost 
the  precious  opportunity.  The  Honourable  Colonial  Decre- 
tory rose  at  the  same  moment  and  added  that  he  must  be 
going  too.  Mrs.  Fitzmaurice  would  never  forgive  herself 
for  that  distressing  local  malady  which  had  so  unfortunately 
deprived  her  of  the  privilege  and  pleasure. — Good  morning, 
good  morning. 

But  as  both  gentlemen  jumped  into  the  dog-cart  out- 
side, Edward  could  hear  uha  Colonial  Secretary,  throi^^h 
the  open  door,  saying  to  the  Colonel  in  a  highly  amused 
voice :  *  By  George,  he  gave  you  as  much  as  he  got  every 
bit,  I  swear,  Daubeny.' 

To  which  the  Colonel  responded  with  a  short  laugh : 
'  Yes,  m^  dear  fellow ;  and  didn't  you  see,  by  Jove,  he 
twigged  it  ? ' 

At  this  they  both  laughed  together  immoderately,  and 
drove  off  at  onoo  laughing,  very  much  pleased  witn  one 
another. 

Before  Marian  and  her  husband  had  wime  to  exchange 
their  surprise  and  wonder  at  such  odd  behaviour  on  the 
part  of  two  apparently  well-bred  men,  another  buggy 
drove  up  to  the  door,  from  which  a  third  gentleman 
promptly  descended.  His  card  showed  him  to  be  the 
wealthy  proprietor  of  A  large  and  flouriahing  neighbouring 
•ugar-estate. 


iP 


m  ALL  SHADES 


108 


to 


'  Called  round/  he  said  to  Edward,  with  a  slight  bow 
towards  Marian,  'just  to  pay  my  respects  to  our  new 
judge,  whom  I'm  glad  to  welcome  to  the  district  of  West 
moreland.  A  son  of  Mr.  Hawthorn  of  Agualta  is  sure 
be  popular  with  most  of  his  neighbours. — Ah — hem — ^my 
wife,  I'm  sorry  to  say,  Mrs.  Hawthorn,  is  at  present  suffer- 
ing from — extreme  exhaustion,  due  to  the  heat.  She  hopes 
you'll  excuse  her  not  calling  upon  you.  Otherwise,  I'm 
sure,  she'd  have  been  most  dehghted,  most  delighted. — 
Dear  me,  what  an  exquisite  prospect  you  have  from  vour 
veranda  I '  The  neighbouring  planter  stopped  for  perhaps 
ten  minutes  in  the  midst  of  languishing  conversation,  and 
then  vanished  exactly  as  his  two  predecessors  had  done 
before  him. 

Marian  turned  to  her  husband  in  blank  dismay.  '  0 
Edward,  Edward  I  *  she  cried,  unable  to  conceal  her  cha- 
grin and  humiUation,  *  what  on  earth  <ian  bo  the  meaning 
ofit?' 

'My  darling,'  he  answered,  taking  her  hand  in  bis 
tenderly,  *  I  haven't  the  very  faintest  conception.' 

In  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  three  more  gentlemen 
called,  each  alone,  and  each  of  them  in  turn  apologised 
profusely,  in  almost  the  very  selfsame  wo^ds,  for  his  wife's 
absence.  The  last  was  a  fat  old  gentleman  in  the  Customs' 
service,  who  declared  with  effusion  many  times  over  that 
Mrs.  Bolitho  was  really  prostrated  b^  the  extraordinary 
season.  '  Most  unusual  weather,  this,  Mrs.  Hawthorn. 
I've  never  known  so  depressing  a  summer  in  the  island  of 
Txlnidsd  since  I  was  a  boy,  ma'am.' 

*  So  it  would  seem,'  Edward  answered  dryly.  *  The 
whole  female  population  of  the  island  seems  to  be  suffering 
Irom  an  extraordinary  complication  of  local  disorders.' 

'  Bless  my  soul  1 '  the  fat  gentleman  ejaculated  with  a 
stare.  '  Then  you've  found  out  that,  have  you ? — Excuse 
me,  excuse  me.  I — didn't  know Hm,  I  hardly  ex- 
pected that  you  expected — or  rather,  that  Mis.  Hawthorn 
expected Ah,  quite  so. — Good  morning,  good  morn- 
ing.' 

}\iarian  flung  herself  in  a  passion  of  tears  upon  the 
drawing-room  sofa.    *If  anyone  else  calls  this  anexnoon. 


IM 


IN  ALL  8EADE8 


Thomas/  shn  said,  '  I'm  not  at  home.  I  won't  see  them 
— ^I  can't  see  them ;  I'll  endure  it  no  longer. — 0  Edward, 
darling,  for  God's  sake,  tell  me,  why  on  earth  are  they 
treating  us  as  if — as  if  I  were  some  sort  of  moral  lejjer  ? 
They  won't  call  upon  me.  What  can  be  the  reason  of  it  ? ' 
Edward  Hawthorn  held  his  head  between  his  hands 
and  walked  rapidly  up  and  down  the  bare  drawing-room. 
'  I  can't  make  it  out,'  he  cried :  *  I  can't  onderstand  it. 
Marian— Nearest — it  is  too  terrible  1  * 


CHAPTER  Xra. 

A  FORTNIGHT  after  Nora's  arrival  in  Trinidad,  Mr.  Tom 
Dupuy,  neatly  dressed  in  all  his  best,  called  over  one  even- 
ing at  Orange  Grove  for  the  express  purpose  of  spealdng 
seriously  with  his  pretty  cousin.  Mr.  Tom  had  been  across 
to  see  her  more  than  once  already,  to  be  sure,  and  had  con- 
descended to  observe  to  many  of  his  acquaintances,  on  his 
return  from  his  call,  that  Uncle  Theodore's  girl,  just  come 
out  from  England,  was  really  in  her  way  a  deuced  elegant 
and  attractive  creature.  In  Mr.  Tom's  opinion,  she  would 
make  a  devilish  fine  person  to  sit  at  the  head  of  the  table 
at  Pimento  Valley.  *  A  man  in  my  position  in  life  wants 
a  handsome  woman,  you  know,'  he  said,  *  to  do  the  honours, 
and  keep  up  the  dignity  of  the  family,  and  look  after  the 
woman-servants,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing;  so  Uncle 
Theodore  and  I  have  arranged  beforehand  that  it  would  be 
a  very  convenient  plan  if  Nora  and  I  were  just  to  go  and 
make  a  match  of  it.' 

With  the  object  of  definitely  broaching  iikia  precon- 
certed harmony  to  his  unconscious  cousin,  Mr.  Tom  had 
decked  himself  in  his  very  smartest  coat  and  trousers, 
stuck  a  gloire  de  Dijon  rose  in  his  top  bntton-hole,  mounted 
his  celebrated  groy  Mexican  pony,  •  Sambo  Gal,'  and  ridden 
across  to  Orange  Grcve  in  thp  cool  of  the  evening. 

Nora  was  sitting  by  her  elf  with  her  cup  of  tea  in  the 
little  boudoir  that  opci^cu  out  on  to  the  terrace  garden, 
with  its  big  bamboos  and  yuccas  and  dracaBna  trees,  when 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


106 


Mr.  Tom  Dupny  was  announced  by  Bosina  as  waiting  to 
■ee  her. 

'  Show  him  in,  Eosina,'  Nora  said  with  a  smile :  '  and 
ask  Aunt  Glemmy  to  send  up  another  teacup.  Good 
eve'iing,  Tom.  I'm  afraid  you'll  find  it  a  little  dull  here, 
as  it  happens,  this  evening,  for  papa's  gone  down  to  Port- 
o'-Spain  on  business ;  so  you'll  have  noluody  to  talk  to  you 
to-night  about  the  prospects  of  the  year's  sugar-crop. 

Tom  Dupuy  seated  himself  on  the  ottoman  beside  her 
with  cousinly  hberty.  *  Oh,  it  don't  matter  a  bit,  Nora,' 
he  answered  with  his  own  peculiar  gallantry.  '  I  don't 
mind.  In  fact,  I  came  over  on  purpose  this  evening,  Unole 
Theodore  was  out,  because  I'd  got  something  very  particular 
I  wanted  to  talk  over  with  you  in  private.' 

•  In-deed,'  Nora  answered  emphatically.  *  I'm  surprised 
to  hear  it.  I  assure  you,  Tom,  I'm  absolutely  ignorant 
on  the  subject  of  cane-culture.' 

*  Girls  brought  up  in  England  mostly  are,'  Tom  Dupuy 
replied  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  generally  makes  a  great 
concession.  *  They  don't  appear  to  feel  much  interest  in 
8 agar,  like  other  people.  I  suppose  in  England  there's 
nothing  much  grown  except  corn  and  cattle, — But  that 
wasn't  what  I  came  to  talk  about  to-night,  Nora.  I've  got 
something  on  my  mind  that  Uncle  Theodore  and  I  have 
been  thinking  over,  and  I  want  to  make  a  proposition  to 
you  about  it.' 

•  Well,  Tom  ? ' 

*  Well,  Nora,  you  see,  it's  Uke  this.  As  you  know, 
Orange  Grove  is  Uncle  Theodore's  to  leave ;  and  after  his 
time,  he'll  leave  it  to  you,  of  course  ;  but  Pimento  Valley's 
entailed  on  me ;  and  that  being  so.  Uncle  Theodore  lets 
me  have  it  on  lease  during  his  lifetime,  so  that,  of  course, 
whatever  I  spend  upon  it  in  the  way  of  permanent  improve- 
ments  is  really  spent  in  bettering  what's  practically  as  good 
as  my  own  property.' 

•  I  understand.     Quite  so. — Have  a  cup  of  tea  ? ' 

*  Thank  you. — Well,  Pimento  Valley,  you  know,  is  one 
of  the  very  best  sugar-producing  estates  in  the  whole  island. 
I've  introduced  the  patent  Browning  regulators  for  the 
centrifugal  process ;  and  I've  imported  some  of  these  new 


i 


"vA 


106 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


Indian  mongooses  that  everybody's  talking  about  to  kill  off 
the  cane-rats  ;  and  I've  got  some  splendid  stock  rattoons 
over  from  Mauritius;  and  altogether,  a  finer  or  more 
ereditable  irrigated  estate  I  don't  think  you'll  find — though 
it's  me  that  says  it — in  the  island  of  Trinidad.  Why, 
Nora,  at  our  last  boiling,  I  assure  you  the  greater  part  of 
the  liquor  turned  out  to  be  seventeen  over  proof ;  while  the 
molasses  stood  at  twenty-nine  specific  gravity  ;  giving  a 
yield,  you  know,  of  something  like  one  hogshead  decimal 
four  on  the  average  to  the  acre  of  canes  under  cultivation.' 

Nora  held  up  her  fan  carelessly  to  smother  a  yawn. 
*  I  dare  say  it  did,  Tom,'  she  answered  with  obvious  un- 
concern ;  *  but,  you  know,  I  told  you  I  didn't  understand 
anything  on  earth  about  sugar ;  and  you  said  it  wasn't 
pbout  that  that  you  wanted  to  talk  to  me  in  private  this 
evening.' 

*Yes,  yes,  Nora;  you're  quite  right;  it  isn't.  It's 
about  a  far  deeper  and  more  interesting  subject  than  sugar 
that  I'm  going  to  speak  to  you.'  (Nora  mentally  guessed 
it  must  be  rum.)  *  I  only  mentioned  these  facts,  you  see, 
just  to  show  the  sort  of  yield  we're  making  now  at  Pimento 
Valley.  A  man  who  does  a  return  like  that,  of  course, 
must  naturally  be  making  a  very  tidy  round  little  income.' 

'  I'm  awfully  glad  to  hear  it,  I'm  sure,  for  your  sake,' 
Nora  answered  unconcernedly. 

*  I  thought  you  would  be,  Nora ;  I  was  sure  you  would 
be.  Naturally,  it's  a  matter  that  touches  us  both  very 
closely.  You  see,  as  you're  to  inherit  Oraiige  Grove,  and 
as  I'm  to  inherit  Pimento  Valley,  Uncle  Theodore  and  I 
think  it  would  be  a  great  pity  that  the  two  old  estates — 
the  estates  bound  up  so  intimately  with  the  name  and  fame 
of  the  fighting  Dupuys — should  ever  be  divided  or  go  out 
of  the  family.  So  we've  agreed  together.  Uncle  Theodore 
and  I,  that  I  should  endeavour  to  unite  them  by  mutual 
arrangement.' 

*  I  don't  exactly  understand,'  Nora  said,  as  yet  quite 
unsuspicious  of  his  real  meaning. 

*  Why,  you  know,  Nora,  a  man  can't  live  upon  nigar 
And  rum  alunc' 

'  Ceilaiuly  not,'  Nvra  interrupted ;  '  even  if  hen  a  cou- 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


vn 


firmed  dnmkard,  it  would  be  quite  impossible.    He  must 
haYO  something  solid  occasionally  to  eat  as  well.' 

*  Ah,  yes/  Tom  said,  in  a  sentimental  tone,  endeavour- 
ing to  rise  as  far  as  he  was  able  to  the  height  of  the  occa- 
sion. *  And  he  must  have  something  more  than  that,  too, 
Nora :  he  must  have  sympathy ;  he  must  have  affection ; 
he  must  have  a  companion  in  life ;  he  must  have  somebody, 
you  know,  to  sit  at  the  head  of  his  table,  and  to — to— 

*To  pour  out  tea  for  him,*  Nora  euggested  blandly, 
filling  his  cup  a  second  time. 

Tom  reddened  a  little.  It  wasn't  exactly  the  idea  he 
wanted,  and  he  began  to  have  a  faint  undercurrent  of 
suspicion  that  Nora  was  quietly  laughing  at  him  in  her 
sleeve.  *  Ah ,  well,  to  pour  out  tea  for  him,*  he  went  on, 
somewhat  suspiciously ;  '  and  to  share  his  joys  and  sorrows, 
and  his  hopes  and  aspirations * 

*  About  the  sugar-crop  ? '  Nora  put  in  once  more,  with 
provoking  calmness. 

'Well,  Nora,  you  may  laugh  if  you  like,*  Tom  said 
warmly ;  '  but  this  is  a  very  serious  subject,  I  can  tell  you, 
for  both  of  us.  What  I  mean  to  say  is  that  Uncle  Theodore 
and  I  have  settled  it  would  be  a  very  good  thing  indeed  if 
we  two  were  to  get  up  a  match  between  us.' 

'A  match  between  you,*  Nora  echoed  in  a  puzzled 
manner — '  a  match  between,  papa  and  ^ou,  Tom  1  What 
i.t?    Billiards?    Cricket?    Long jumpmg ? ' 

Tom  fairly  lost  his  temper.  *  Nonsense,  Nora  I  *  he  said 
testily.  '  You  know  as  well  what  I  mean  as  I  do.  Not 
a  match  between  Uncle  Theodore  and  me,  but  a  match 
between  you  and  me — the  heir  and  heiress  of  Orange  Grove 
and  Pimento  Vallev.* 

Nora  stared  at  him  with  irrepressible  laughter  twinkling 
luddenlv  out  of  all  the  comers  of  her  merry  little  mouth 
and  puckered  eyelids.  '  Between  you  and  me,  Tom  I '  she 
repeated  incredulously — *  between  you  and  me,  did  you  say  ? 
Between  you  and  me  now?  Why,  Tom,  do  you  really 
mean  this  for  a  sort  of  an  off-hand  casual  proposal  ? ' 

*  Oh,  you  may  laugh  if  you  like,'  Tom  Dnpuy  replied 
evasively,  at  once  assuming  the  defensive,  as  boors  always 


106 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


I 


do  by  instinct  nnder  similar  circumstances.  *  I  know  the 
ways  of  you  girls  that  have  been  brought  up  at  highfalutin' 
schools  over  in  England.  You  think  West  Indian  gentle- 
men aren't  good  enough  for  you,  and  you  go  running  after 
cavalry-officer  fellows,  or  else  after  some  confounded  up- 
start wooUy-headed  mulatto  or  other,  who  comes  out  from 
England.  I  know  the  ways  of  you.  But  you  may  laugh 
as  you  like.  I  see  you  don't  mean  to  listen  to  me  now ; 
but  you'll  have  to  listen  to  me  in  tLe  end,  for  Uncle 
Theodore  and  I  have  made  up  our  minds  about  it  r  and  what 
a  Dupuy  makes  up  his  mind  about,  he  generally  sticks  to, 
and  there's  no  turning  him.  So  in  tne  end,  I  Imow,  Nora, 
you'll  have  to  marry  me.' 

'  You  seem  to  forget,'  Nora  said  haughtily,  *  that  I  too 
fim  a  Dupuy,  as  much  as  you  are.* 

*  Ah,  but  you're  only  a  woman,  and  that's  very  different. 
I  don't  mind  a  bit  about  your  answering  me  no  to-day.  It 
seems  I've  tapped  the  puncheon  a  bit  too  early ;  that's  all : 
leave  the  liquor  alone,  and  it  '11  mature  of  itself  in  time  in 
its  own  cellar.  Sooner  or  later,  Nora,  you  see  if  you  don't 
marry  me.' 

'But,  Tom,'  Nora  cried,  abashed  into  seriousness  for 
a  moment  by  this  sudden  outburst  of  nalive  vulgarity,  *  this 
is  really  so  unexpected  and  so  ridiculous.  We're  cousins, 
you  know ;  I've  never  thought  of  you  at  all  in  any  way 
except  as  a  cousin.  I  didn't  mean  to  be  rude  to  you ;  but 
your  proposal  and  your  way  of  putting  it  took  me  reaUy  so 
mush  by  surprise.' 

'  Oh,  if  that's  all  yon  mean,'  Tom  Dupny  answered, 
somewhat  molhfied,  *  I  don't  mind  your  laughing ;  no,  not 
tuppence.  All  I  mind  is  your  saying  no  so  straight  outright 
to  me.    If  you  want  time  to  consider * 

'  Never ! '  Nora  interrupted  quickly  in  a  sharp  voice  of 
unswerving  firmness. 

•  Never,  Nora  ?    Never  ?    Why  never  7  * 

'  Because,  Tom,  I  don't  care  for  you ;  I  can*t  care  for 
you ;  and  I  never  will  care  for  you.    Is  that  plain  enough  ? ' 

Tom  stroked  his  chin  and  looked  at  her  dubiously,  as 
a  man  looks  at  an  impatient  horse  of  doubtful  temper. 
*  Wdl/  he  said, '  Nora,  you're  a  fine  one,  yoa  are — a  very 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


109 


fine  one.  I  know  what  this  means.  I've  seen  it  before 
lots  of  times,  Yon  want  to  marry  some  woolly-headed 
brown  man.  I  heard  you  were  awfully  thick  with  some  of 
those  people  on  board  the  Severn.  That's  what  always 
comes  of  sending  West  Indian  girls  to  be  educated  in 
England.  You'll  have  to  marry  me  in  the  end,  though, 
all  the  same,  because  of  the  property.  But  you  just  mark 
my  words  :  if  you  don't  marry  me,  as  sure  as  fate,  you'll 
finish  with  marrying  a  woolly-headed  mulatto  i ' 

Nora  rose  to  her  full  height  with  o£fended  dignity. 
'  Tom  Dupuy,'  she  said  angnly, '  you  insult  me  I  Leave 
the  house,  sir,  this  minute,  or  I  shall  go  to  my  bedroom. 
Get  back  to  your  sugar-canes  and  your  oentriftigids  until 
you've  learned  better  manners.* 

'  Upon  my  word,'  Tom  said  aloud,  as  if  to  himself, 
rising  to  go,  ajid  flicking  his  boot  carelessly  with  his  riding- 
whip,  '  I  admire  her  all  the  more  when  she's  in  a  temper. 
She's  one  of  your  high-steppers,  she  is.  She's  a  devilish 
fine  girl,  too — hanged  if  she  isn't — and,  sooner  or  later, 
she'll  have  to  marry  me.' 

Nora  swept  out  of  the  boudoir  without  another  word, 
and  walked  with  a  stately  tread  into  her  own  bedroom. 
But  before  she  got  there,  the  ludicrous  side  of  the  thing 
had  onoe  more  overcome  her,  and  she  flung  herself  on  her 
bed  in  uncontrollable  fits  of  childish  laughter.  '  Oh,  Aunt 
Glemmy,'  she  cried, '  bring  me  my  tea  in  here,  will  you  ? 
I  really  think  I  shall  die  of  laughing  at  Mr.  Tom  there  1 ' 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

For  a  few  days  the  Hawthorns  had  plenty  of  callers — but 
all  gentlemen.  Marian  did  not  go  down  to  receive  them. 
Edward  saw  them  by  himself  in  the  drawing-room,  accept- 
ing their  excuses  with  poUte  incredulity,  and  dismissing 
them  as  soon  as  possible  by  a  resolutely  quiet  and  taciturn 
demeanour.  Such  a  singularly  silent  man  as  the  new 
judge,  eveiybody  said,  had  never  before  been  known  in  th« 
dis&ot  of  Westmoreland. 

8 


lit 


m  ALL  SEADWa 


One  afternoon,  however,  when  the  two  Hawthorns  were 
sitting  nnder  the  spreadmg  mango  tree  in  the  back  garden, 
forgetting  their  doubts  and  hesitations  in  a  quiet  chat, 
Thomas  came  out  to  inform  them  duly  that  two  gentlemen 
and  a  lady  were  waiting  to  see  them  in  the  big  bare 
drawing-room.  Marian  sighed  a  sigh  of  profound  relief. 
'  A  lady  at  last,'  she  said  hopeMly.  '  Perhaps,  Edward, 
they've  begun  to  find  out,  after  all,  that  they've  made  some 
mistake  or  other.  Can — can  any  wicked  person,  I  wonder, 
have  been  spreading  around  some  horrid  report  ibout  me, 
that'B  now  discovered  to  be  a  mere  falsehood  ? ' 

'It's  incomprehensible,'  Edward  answered  moodily. 
'  The  more  I  puzzle  over  it,  the  less  I  understand  it.  But 
as  a  lady's  called  at  last,  of  course,  darling,  you'd  better 
come  in  at  once  and  see  her.' 

They  walked  together,  full  of  curiosity,  into  the  drawing- 
room.  The  two  gentlemen  rose  simidtaneously  as  they 
entered.  To  Marian's  surprise,  it  was  Dr.  Whitaker  and 
his  father ;  and  with  them  had  come — a  brown  lady. 

Marian  was  unaffectedly  glad  to  see  their  late  travel- 
hng  companion ;  but  it  was  certainly  a  shock  to  her,  un- 
prejudioed  as  she  was,  that  the  very  first  and  only  woman 
who  had  called  upon  her  in  Trinidad  should  be  a  mulatto. 
However,  she  tried  to  bear  her  disappointment  bravely,  and 
sat  do^im  to  do  the  honours  as  well  as  she  was  able  to  her 
unexpected  visitors. 

*  My  daughtab  1 '  the  elder  brown  man  said  ostenta- 
tiously, with  an  expansive  wave  of  his  ^easy  left  hand 
towards  the  mulatto  lady — *  MissEuphenuaFowell-Buxton 
Duchess-of- Sutherland  Whitaker.* 

Marian  aclmowledged  the  introduction  with  a  slight 
bow,  and  bit  her  lip.  She  stole  a  look  at  Dr.  Whitaker, 
and  saw  at  once  upon  his  face  an  unwonted  expression  of 
profound  dejection  and  disappointment. 

•  An*  how  do  you  like  Trinidad,  Mrs.  Hawtom  ?  *  Miss 
Euphemia  asked  with  a  society  simper;  while  Edward 
began  engaging  in  conversation  with  the  two  men.  '  Yon 
find  de  excessiveness  of  de  temperature  prejudicial  to 
salubrity,  after  de  delicious  equability  of  de  English 
olimata  ?  * 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


111 


'Well,*  Marian  assented,  smiling,  'I  certainly  do  find 
it  very  hot.' 

'Oh,  exceedingly/  Miss  Euphemia  replied,  as  she 
mopped  her  forehead  yiolently  with  a  highly- scented  lace- 
edged  cambric  pocket  handkerchief.  *  De  heat  is  most 
oppressive,  most  unendurable.  I  could  wring  out  me 
handkerchief,  I  assure  you,  Mrs.  Hawtom,  wit  de  extra- 
ordinary profusion  of  me  perspiration.' 

'  But  this  is  summer,  you  must  remember,'  Dr.  Whi- 
taker  put  in  nervously,  endeavouring  in  vain  to  distract 
attention  for  the  moment  fr  u  Miss  Euphemia's  conversa- 
tional peculiarities.  *  In  winter,  you  know,  we  shall  have 
quite  delightful  English  weather  on  the  hills — qaite 
delightful  English  weather.' 

'  Ah,  yes,'  the  father  went  on  with  a  broad  smile.  '  In 
winter,  Mrs.  Hawtom,  ma'am,  you  will  be  glad  to  drink  a 
glass  of  rum-and-milk  sometimes,  I  tell  you,  to  warm  de 
blood  on  dese  chilly  hilltops.' 

The  talk  went  on  for  a  while  about  such  ordinary 
casual  topics ;  and  then  at  last  Miss  Euphemia  happened 
to  remark,  confidentially  to  Marian,  that  that  very  day  her 
cousin,  Mr.  Septimius  Whitaker,  had  been  married  al 
eleven  o'clock  down  at  the  cathedral. 

'  Indeed,'  Marian  said,  with  some  polite  show  of  interest. 
'  And  did  you  go  to  the  wedding,  Miss  Whitaker  ? ' 

Miss  Euphemia  drew  herself  up  with  great  dignity. 
She  was  a  good-looking,  buxom,  round-faced,  very  negro- 
featured  girl,  about  as  dark  in  complexion  as  her  brother 
the  doctor,  but  much  more  decidedly  thick-lipped  and  flat- 
nosed.  *0h  no,'  she  said,  with  every  sign  of  offended 
prejudice.  '  We  didn't  at  all  approve  of  de  match  me 
cousin  Septimius  was  unhappily  makin*.  De  lady,  I  regret 
to  say,  was  a  Sambo. 

*  A  what  ? '  Marian  inquired  curiously. 

'  A  Sambo,  a  Sambo  gal,'  Miss  Euphemia  replied  in  a 
shrill  crescendo. 

*  Oh,  indeed,'  Marian  assented  in  a  tone  which  clearly 
showed  she  hadn't  the  faintest  idea  of  Miss  Euphemia's 
meaning. 

<  A  Sambo,'  Mr.  Whitaker  the  elder  said,  smiling,  and 


i 


Ill 


IN  ALL   SHADES 


coming  to  her  rescue — *  a  Sambo,  Mrs.  Hawtom,  is  one  of 
de  inferior  degrees  in  de  classified  scale  and  hierarchy  of 
colour.  De  cifspring  of  an  African  and  a  white  man  is  a 
mulatto— dat,  madam,  is  my  complexion.  De  offspring  of 
a  mulatto  and  a  white  man  is  a  quadroon— dat  is  de  grade 
immediately  superior.  But  de  offspring  of  a  mulatto  and  a 
negress  is  a  Sambo — dat  is  de  class  just  beneat'  us.  De 
cause  of  complaint  alleged  by  de  family  against  our  nephew 
Septimius  is  dis — dat  bein'  himself  a  mulatto — de  very 
fust  remove  from  de  pure-blooded  white  man — he  has 
chosen  to  ally  himself  in  marriage  wit  a  Sambo  gal — de 
second  and  inferior  remove  in  de  same  progression.  De 
family  feels  dat  in  dis  course  Septimius  has  toroughly  and 
irremediably  disgraced  himself.' 

'And  for  dat  reason,'  added  Miss  Euphemia  with 
stately  coldness,  '  none  of  de  ladies  in  de  brown  society  of 
^Urinidad  have  been  present  at  dis  morning's  ceremony. 
De  gentlemen  went,  but  de  ladies  didn't.' 

*  It  seems  to  me,'  Dr.  Whitaker  said,  in  a  pained  and 
humiUated  tone,  'that  we  oughtn't  to  be  making  these 
absurd  distinctions  of  minute  hue  between  ourselves,  but 
ought  rather  to  be  trying  our  best  to  break  down  the  whole 
barrier  of  time-honoured  prejudice  by  which  the  coloured 
race,  as  a  race,  is  so  surrounded.  Don't  you  agree  with 
me,  Mr.  Hawthorn  ? ' 

'  Pho  1 '  Miss  Euphemia  exclaimed,  with  evident  dis- 
gust. '  Just  hsten  to  Wilberforce  I  He  has  no  proper 
pride  in  his  family  or  in  his  colour.  He  would  go  and 
shake  hands  wit  any  vulgar,  dirty,  nigger  woman,  I  beheve, 
as  black  as  de  poker ;  his  ideas  are  so  common  1 — Wilber- 
force, I  declare,  I's  quite  ashamed  of  you  1 ' 

Dr.  Whitaker  played  nervously  with  the  knob  of  his 
walking-stick.  '  I  feel  sure,  Euphemia,'  he  said  at  last, 
'  these  petty  discriminations  between  shade  and  shade  are 
the  true  disgrace  and  ruin  of  our  brown  people.  In  de- 
spising one  another,  or  boasting  over  one  inocher,  for  our 
extra  fraction  or  so  of  white  blood,  we  are  impHcitly 
admitting  in  principle  the  claim  of  white  people  to  look 
down  upon  all  of  us  impartially  as  inferior  creatures,— 
Don't  you  think  so,  Mr.  Hawthorn  / 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


118 


•I  quite  agree  with  you 
•  The  principle's  obvious.* 


Edward  answered  warmly 


Dr.  Whitaker  looked  pleased  and  ilattered.  Edward 
Btole  a  glance  at  Marian,  and  neither  could  resist  a  fain^» 
smile  at  Miss  Euphemia's  prejudices  of  colour,  in  spite  of 
their  pressing  doubts  and  preoccupations.  And  yet  they 
didn't  even  then  begin  to  perceive  the  true  meaning  of  the 
situation.  They  had  not  long  to  wait,  however,  for  before 
the  Whitakers  rose  to  take  their  departure,  Thomas  came 
in  with  a  couple  of  cards  to  announce  Mr.  Theodore 
Dupuy,  and  his  nephew,  Mr.  Tom  Dupuy,  of  Pimento 
Vallev. 

The  Whitakers  went  off  shortly.  Miss  Euphemia  espe- 
cially in  very  high  spirits,  because  Mrs.  Hawthorn  had 
shaken  hands  in  the  most  cordial  manner  with  her,  before 
the  face  of  the  two  white  meuc  Edward  and  Marian 
would  fain  have  refused  to  see  the  Dupuys,  as  they  hadn't 
thought  fit  to  bring  even  Nora  with  them;  and  at  that 
last  mysterious  insult — a  dagger  to  her  heart — tha  tears 
came  up  irresistibly  to  poor  wearied  Marian's  swimming 
eyelids.  But  Thomas  had  brought  the  visitors  in  before 
the  Whitakers  rose  to  go,  and  so  there  was  nothing  left 
but  to  get  through  the  interview  somehow,  with  what  grace 
they  could  manage  to  muster. 

*  We  had  hoped  to  see  Nora  long  before  this,'  Edward 
Hawthorn  said  pointedly  to  Mr.  Dupuy — after  a  few  pre- 
liminary poUte  inanities — half  hoping  thus  to  bring  things 
at  last  to  a  positive  crisis.  '  My  wife  and  she  were  school- 
girls togetLer,  you  know,  and  we  saw  so  much  of  one 
another  on  the  way  out.  We  have  been  quite  looking 
forward  to  her  paying  us  a  visit.' 

Mr.  Dupuy  drew  himself  up  very  stiffly,  and  answered 
in  a  tone  of  the  chiUiest  order :  '  I  don't  know  to  whom 
you  can  be  alluding,  sir,  when  you  speak  of  *•  Nora; "  but 
if  you  refer  to  my  daughter,  Miss  Dupuy,  I  regiet  to  say 
she  is  suffering  just  at  present  from — ur — a  severe  indis- 
position, which  unfortunately  prevents  her  from  paying  a 
call  on  Mrs.  Hawthorn.' 

Edward  coughed  an  angry  little  cough,  which  Marian 
MW  at  once  meant  %  fixed  determination  to  pursue  tbt 


114 


m  ALL  SHADES 


matter  to  the  bitter  end.  '  Miss  Diipay  herself  requested 
me  to  call  her  Nora,'  he  said,  *  on  our  journey  over,  during 
which  we  naturally  became  very  intimate,  as  she  was  put 
in  charge  of  my  wife  at  Southampton,  by  her  aunt  in 
England.  If  she  had  not  done  so,  I  should  never  have 
dreamt  of  addressing  her,  or  speaking  of  her,  by  her 
Christian  name.  As  she  did  do  so,  however,  I  shall  take 
the  liberty  of  continuing  to  call  her  by  that  name,  until  I 
receive  a  request  to  desist  from  her  own  hps.  We  have 
long  been  expecting  a  call,  I  repeat,  ^Ir.  Dupuy,  from  yonr 
daughter  Nora.* 

*  Sir  I '  Mr.  Dupuv  exclaimed  angrily ;  the  blood  of  the 
fighting  Dupuys  was  boihng  up  now  savagely  within  him. 

'We  have  been  expecting  her,'  Edward  Hawthorn 
repeated  firmly ;  *  and  I  insist  upon  knowing  the  reason 
why  you  have  not  brought  her  with  you.' 

*  I  have  already  said,  sir,'  Mr.  Dupuy  answered,  rising 
and  growing  purple  in  the  face,  'that  my  daughter  is 
suffering  from  a  severe  indisposition.' 

*  And  I  refuse,'  Edward  replied,  in  his  sternest  tone, 
rising  also,  *  to  accept  that  flimsy  excuse — in  short,  to  call 
it  by  its  proper  name,  that  transparent  fEilsehood.  K  you 
do  not  tell  me  the  true  reason  at  once,  much  as  I  respect 
and  like  Miss  Dupuy,  I  shall  have  to  ask  you,  sir,  to  leave 
my  house  immediately.' 

A  light  seemed  to  burst  suddenly  upon  the  passionate 
planter,  which  altered  his  face  curiously,  by  gradual  changes 
from  hvid  blue  to  bright  scarlet.  The  comers  of  his  mouth 
began  to  go  up  sideways  in  a  solemnly  ludicrous  fashion  : 
the  crow's-feet  about  his  eyes  first  relaxed  and  thou 
tightened  deeply;  his  whole  big  bod^  seemed  to  be  in- 
wardly shaken  by  a  kind  of  suppressed  impalpable  laughter. 
*  Why,  Tom,'  he  exclaimed,  turning  with  a  curious  half- 
Gomical  look  to  his  wondering  nephew,  •  do  you  know — upon 
my  word — I  really  believe — no,  it  can't  be  possible — but  I 
really  believe— they  don't  even  now  know  anything  at  all 
about  it.' 

*  Explain  yourself,*  Edward  said  sternly,  placing  himself 
between  Mr.  Dupuy  and  the  door,  as  if  on  purpose  to  bar 
the  passage  outward. 


nr  ALL  SHADES 


115 


'  If  you  really  don't  know  about  it,'  Mr.  Dupuy  said 
■lowly,  with  an  unusual  burst  of  generosity  fur  him, 
'  why,  then,  I  admit,  the  insult  to  Miss  Dupuy  is — is — is 
less  deUberately  intentional  than  I  at  first  sight  imagined. 
But  no,  no :  you  must  know  all  about  it  already.  You 
can't  still  remain  in  ignorance.  It's  impossible,  quite 
impossible.' 

*  Explain,'  Edward  reiterated  inexorably. 

*  You  compel  me  ? ' 

*  I  compel  you.' 

*  You'd  better  not ;  you  won't  like  it.' 

*  I  insist  upon  it.' 

'  Well,  really,  since  you  make  a  point  of  it — but  there, 
you've  been  brought  up  hke  a  gentleman,  Mr.  Hawthorn, 
and  you've  married  a  wife  who,  as  I  learn  from  my  daughter, 
is  well  connected,  and  has  been  brought  up  like  a  lady  ;  and 
I  don't  want  to  hurt  your  feelings  needlessly.  I  can  under- 
stand  that  under  such  circumstances ' 

'  Explain.  Say  what  you  have  to  say ;  I  can  endure 
it.' 

*  Tom !  *  Mr.  Dupuy  murmured  imploringly,  turning  to 
his  nephew.  After  all,  the  elder  man  was  something  of 
a  gentleman;  he  shrank  from  speaking  out  that  horrid 
secret. 

'  Well,  you  see,  Mr.  Hawthorn,'  Tom  Dupuy  went  on, 
taking  up  the  parable  with  a  sardonic  smile — for  he  had 
no  such  scruples — *  my  uncle  naturally  felt  that  with  a  man 
of  your  colour '    He  paused  significantly. 

Edward  Hawthorn's  colour  at  that  particular  moment 
was  vivid  crimson.  The  next  instant  it  was  marble  white. 
•  A  man  of  my  colour ! '  he  exclaimed,  drawing  back  in  as- 
tonishment, not  unmingled  with  horror,  and  fiinging  up  his 
arms  wildly — '  a  man  of  my  colour !  For  Heaven's  sake, 
sir,  what,  in  the  name  of  goodness,  do  you  mean  by  a  man 
of  my  colour  ? ' 

*  Why,  of  course,'  Tom  Dupuy  replied  maliciously  and 
coolly,  *  seeing  that  you're  a  brown  man  yourself,  and  that 
your  father  and  mother  were  brown  people  before  you 
naturally,  my  uncle ' 

Marian  burst  forth  into  a  little  cry  of  intense  excitement 


116 


IN  ALL  BHADEa 


It  wasn't  honor ;  it  wasn't  anger ;  it  wasn't  disappoint- 
ment: it  was  simply  relief  from  (he  long  d^onj  cf  th&t 
endless,  horrible  suspense. 

*  We  can  bear  it  all,  Edward,'  she  cried  aload  cheerfolly, 
almost  joyously — '  we  can  boar  it  aU  1  My  darling,  my 
darling,  it  is  nothing,  nothing,  nothing  i  * 

And  regardless  of  the  two  men,  who  waited  yet,  cynical 
and  silent,  watching  the  efTect  of  their  unexpected  thunder- 
bolt,  the  poor  young  wife  flung  her  arms  wildly  around  her 
newly  wedded  husband,  and  smothered  him  in  a  perfect 
torrent  of  passionate  kisses. 

But  as  for  Edward,  he  stood  there  still*  as  white*  as 
cold,  and  as  moticnless  as  a  statua 


CHAPTER  XV. 

*  Wb*d  better  go,  Tom,'  Mr.  Dupuy  said,  almost  pitying 
them.  *  Upon  my  soul,  it's  perfectly  true ;  they  neither  of 
them  knew  a  word  about  it.' 

'  No,  by  Jove,  they  didn't,*  Tom  Dupu^  answered  with 
a  sneer,  as  he  walked  out  into  the  piazza. — '  What  a 
splendid  facer,  though,  it  was.  Uncle  Theodore,  for  a  con- 
founded upstart  nigger  of  a  brown  man. — But,  I  say,'  as 
they  passed  out  of  the  piazza  and  mounted  their  horses 
once  more  by  the  steps — for  they  were  riding — *  did  you 
ever  see  anything  more  disgusting  in  your  hfe  than  that 
woman  there — a  real  white  woman,  and  a  bom  lady,  Nora 
tells  me — slobbering  over  and  hugging  that  great,  ngly, 
hulking  coloured  fellow  1 ' 

'  He's  white  enough  to  look  at,'  Mr.  Dupuy  said  reflec- 
tively. '  Poor  soul,  she  married  him  without  knowing  any- 
thing about  it.  It'll  be  a  terrible  blow  for  her,  I  expect., 
finding  out,  now  she's  tied  to  him  irrevocably,  that  he's 
nothing  more  than  a  common  brov^n  man.' 

'  She  ought  to  be  allowed  to  get  a  divorce,'  Tom  Du^uv 
exclaimed  warmly.  '  By  George,  it's  preposterous  totmnk 
that  a  born  lady,  and  the  daughter  of  a  General  Somebody 
over  in  England,  should  be  tethered  for  life  to  a  creature  of 


I.V  ALL  SHADES 


111 


that  sort,  whom  she's  married  under  what's  as  good  as 
Calse  pretences  I ' 

Meanwhile  the  unhappy  woman  v/ho  had  thus  secured 
the  higli  prize  of  Mr.  Tom  Dupuy's  distinguished  compas- 
sion was  sitting  on  the  sofa  in  the  big  bare  drawing-room, 
holding  her  husband's  hand  tenderly  in  hers,  and  soothing 
him  gently  by  murmuring  every  now  and  then  in  »  soft 
undertone  i  •  My  darling,  my  darling,  I  shall  love  you  for 
ever.  How  glad  we  are  to  know  that,  after  all,  it's  nothing, 
nothing ! ' 

Edward  s  3tupor  lasted  for  many  minutes ;  not  so 
much  because  he  was  deeply  hurt  or  horrified,  for  there 
wasn't  much  at  bottom  to  horrify  him,  but  simply  because 
he  was  stuimed  by  the  pure  novelty  and  strangeness  of 
that  curious  situation.  A  brown  man — a  brown  man  1  It 
was  too  extraordinary !  He  could  hardly  fiwake  himself 
from  the  one  pervading  thought  that  absorbed  and  possessed 
for  the  moment  his  whole  nature.  At  lest,  however,  he 
awoke  himself  slowly.  After  all,  how  little  it  was,  com- 
pared with  their  worst  fears  and  anticipations !  '  Thomas,' 
he  cried  to  the  negro  butler,  '  bring  round  our  horses  as 
quick  as  you  can  saddle  them.  Darling,  darling,  we  must 
ride  up  to  Agualta  this  moment,  and  speak  about  it  all  to 
my  father  and  mother.' 

In  Trinidad,  everybody  rides.  Indeed,  there  is  no  other 
way  of  getting  ?jbout  from  place  to  place  among  the  rnoun* 
tains,  for  carriage-roads  are  there  unknown,  and  only 
narrow  winding  horse-paths  climb  slowly  round  the  inter- 
minable peaks  and  gullies.  The  ^awthoms'  own  house 
was  on  the  plains  just  at  the  foot  of  the  hills  ;  but  Agualta 
and  most  of  the  other  surrounding  houses  were  up  high 
among  the  cooler  mointaiiis.  So  the  very  first  thing 
Marian  and  Edward  had  had  to  do  on  reaching  the  island 
was  to  provide  themselves  with  a  couple  of  saddle-horses, 
which  they  did  during  their  first  week's  stay  at  Agualta. 
In  five  minutes  the  horses  were  at  the  door ;  and  Marian, 
having  rapidly  slipped  on  her  habit,  mounted  her  pony  and 
proceeded  to  follow  her  agitated  husband  up  the  slender 
thread  of  mountain-road  that  led  tortuously  to  his  father's 
house.    They  rode  along  in  single  file,  as  one  always  must 


lit 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


on  theso  narrow,  ledge-like  West  Indian  bridle-paths,  and 
in  perfect  silence.  At  first,  indeed,  Msirian  tried  to  thro'« 
ont  a  few  casual  remarks  about  the  scenery  and  the  tree- 
ferns,  to  look  as  if  the  disclosure  was  to  her  less  than 
nothing — as,  indeed,  but  for  Edward's  sake,  was  a'jtually 
the  case — but  her  husband  was  too  much  wrapped  up  in 
his  own  bitter  thoughts  to  answer  her  by  more  than  single 
monosyllables.  Not  that  he  spoke  unkindly  or  angrily; 
on  the  contrary,  his  tenderness  was  profoundar  than  ever, 
for  he  knew  now  to  what  sort  of  life  he  had  exposed  Marian ; 
but  he  had  no  heart  just  then  for  talking  of  any  sort ;  and 
he  felt  that  until  he  understood  the  whole  matter  more 
perfectly,  words  were  useless  to  explain  the  situation. 

As  mr  Marian,  one  thought  mainly  possessed  her :  had 
even  Nora,  too,  turned  against  them  and  forsaken  them  ? 

Old  Mr.  Hawthorn  met  them  anxiously  on  the  terrace 
of  Agualti^..  He  saw  at  once,  by  their  pale  and  troubled 
faces,  that  they  now  knew  at  least  part  of  the  truth. 
'Well,  my  boy,'  he  said,  taking  Edward's  hand  in  his 
with  regretful  gentleness, '  to  you  have  found  out  the  curse 
that  hangs  over  us  ? ' 

'In  part,  at  least,'  Edward  answered,  dismounting; 
and  he  proceeded  to  pour  ^orth  into  his  father's  pitying 
and  sympathetic  ear  the  whole  story  of  their  stormy  inter* 
view  with  the  two  Dupuvs.  *  What  can  they  mean,'  he 
asked  at  last,  drawing  himself  up  proudly,  'by  calling 
such  people  as  you  and  me  "  brown  men,"  father?* 

The  question,  as  he  asked  it  that  moment,  in  the  full 
sunshine  of  Agualta  Terrace,  did  indeed  seem  a  very  absurd 
one.  Two  more  perfect  specimens  of  the  fair-haired,  blue- 
eyed,  pinky- white- skimied  Anglo- Saxon  type  it  would  have 
been  extremely  difficult  to  discover  even  in  the  very  heart 
of  England  itself,  than  the  father  and  son  who  thus  faced 
one  another.  But  old  Mr.  Hawthorn  shook  his  handsome 
grey  old  head  solemnly  and  mournfully.  *  It's  quite  true, 
my  boy,'  he  answered  with  a  painful  sigh — 'quite  true, 
every  word  of  it.  In  the  eyes  of  all  Trinidad,  of  all  the 
West  Indies,  you  and  I  are  in  fact  coloured  people.' 

'  But,  father,  dear  fatlier,'  Marian  said  pleadingly, '  just 
look  at  Edward  I     There  isn't  a  sign  or  a  maik  on  him 


'  1 


m  ALL  SHADES 


119 


lefuU 
ibsurd 
blue- 
have 
heart 
faced 
Isome 
true, 
true, 
the 


anywhere  of  anything  but  the  purest  English  blood  1  Just 
look  at  him,  father ;  how  can  it  be  possible  ?  * — and  she 
took  up,  half  unconsciously,  his  hand — that  usual  last 
tell-tale  of  African  descent,  but  in  Edward  Hawthorn's  case 
stainless  and  white  as  pure  wax.  *  Surely  you  don't  mean 
to  tell  me,'  she  said,  kissing  it  with  wifely  tenderness, 
'  there  is  negro  blood — the  least,  the  tiniest  fraction,  in 
dear  Edward  1  * 

'Listen  to  me,  dearest,*  the  old  man  said,  drawing 
Marian  closer  to  his  side  with  a  fatherly  gesture.  '  My 
father  was  a  white  man.  Mary's  father  was  a  white  man. 
Our  grandfathers  on  both  sides  were  pure  white,  and  oar 
grandmothers  on  one  side  were  white  also.  All  our  an- 
cestors in  the  fourth  degree  were  white,  save  only  one — 
fifteen  whites  to  one  coloured  out  of  sixteen  quarters — and 
that  one  was  a  mulatto  in  either  line — Mary's  and  my 
great-great-grandmother.  In  England,  or  any  othcr 
country  of  Europe,  we  should  be  white — as  white  as  you 
are.  But  such  external  and  apparent  whiteness  isn't 
enough  by  any  means  for  our  West  Indian  prejudices.  As 
long  as  you  have  the  remotest  taint  or  reminiscence  of 
black  blood  about  you  in  any  way — as  long  as  it  can  be 
shown,  by  tracing  your  pedigree  pitilessly  to  its  fountain- 
head,  that  any  one  of  your  ancestors  was  of  African  origin 
— then,  by  all  estabhshed  West  Indian  reckoning,  you  are 
a  coloured  man,  an  outcast,  a  pariah. — You  have  married 
a  coloured  man,  Marian;  and  your  children  and  your 
grandchildren  to  the  latest  generations  will  all  of  them  for 
ever  be  coloured  also. 

'  How  cruel — how  wicked — how  abominable  I '  Marian 
cried,  flushed  and  red  with  sudden  indignation.  *  How 
unjust  so  to  follow  the  merest  shadow  or  suspicion  of 
negro  blood  age  after  age  to  one's  children's  children  ! ' 

'  And  how  far  more  mijust  still,'  Edward  exclaimed 
with  passionate  fervour,  '  ever  so  to  judge  of  any  man  not 
by  what  he  is  in  himself,  but  by  the  mere  accident  of  the 
race  or  blood  from  which  he  is  descended  1 ' 

Marian  blushed  again  with  still  deeper  colour ;  she  felt 
in  her  heart  that  Edward's  indignation  went  further  than 
hers,  down  to  the  very  root  and  ground  of  the  whole  matter* 


IM 


m  ALL  8EADBB 


•  But,  O  father, '  fclie  began  again  after  a  slight  paTlB8| 
clinging  passionately  both  to  her  husband  and  to  Mr. 
Hawthorn, '  are  they  going  to  visit  this  crime  of  birth  even 
on  a  man  of  Edward's  character  and  Edward's  position  ?  * 

'  Not  on  him  only,'  the  old  man  whispered  with  infinite 
tenderness — 'not  on  him  only,  my  daughter,  my  dear 
daughter — not  on  him  only,  but  on  you— on  you,  who  are 
one  of  themselves,  an  English  lady,  a  true  white  woman 
of  pure  and  spotless  hneage.  You  have  broken  their 
utmost  and  sacredest  law  of  race;  you  have  married  a 
coloured  man  I  They  will  punish  you  for  it  cruelly  and 
relentlessly.  Though  you  did  it,  as  he  did  it,  in  utter 
ignorance,  they  will  punish  you  for  it  cruelly ;  and  that's 
the  very  bitterest  drop  in  all  our  bitter  cup  of  ignominy 
and  humiliation.' 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  and  then  Edward  raed 
to  him  aloud :  '  Father,  father,  yoa  ought  to  have  told  me 
of  this  earlier  f ' 

His  father  drew  back  at  the  word  as  though  one  had 
stung  him.  'My  boy,'  he  answered  tremulously,  *how 
can  you  ever  reproach  me  with  that  ?  You  at  least  should 
be  the  last  to  reproach  me.  I  sent  you  to  England,  and  I 
meant  to  keep  you  there.  In  England,  this  disgrace  would 
have  been  nothing — less  than  notliing.  Nobody  would  ever 
have  known  of  it,  or  if  tlicy  knew  of  it,  minded  it  in  any 
way.  Why  should  I  trouble  you  with  a  mere  foolish  fact 
of  family  history  utterly  unimportant  to  you  over  in  Eng- 
land? I  tried  my  hardest  to  prevent  you  from  coming 
here;  I  tried  to  send  you  back  at  once  when  you  first 
came.  But  do  you  wonder,  now,  I  shrank  from  telling  you 
the  ban  that  lies  upon  all  of  us  here  ?  And  do  you  blame 
me  for  trying  to  spare  you  the  misery  I  myself  and  your 
dear  mother  have  endured  without  complaining  for  our 
whole  lifetime  ? ' 

•Fatlxr,  father,*  Edward  cried  again,  *  I  was  wrong; 
I  was  ungrateful.  You  have  done  it  all  in  kindness.  For- 
give me — forgive  me  I ' 

•There  is  nothing  to  forgive,  my  boy — nothing  to 
forgive,  Edward.  And  now,  of  oourae,  you  will  go  back  to 
England?* 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


ISl 


any 
foot 


to 
)kto 


Edward  answered  quickly, '  Yes,  yes,  father ;  they  Lave 
conquered — they  have  conquered — I  shall  go  back  to  Eng- 
land ;  and  you,  too,  shall  come  with  me.  If  it  were  for 
my  own  sake  alone,  I  would  stop  here  even  so,  and  fight  it 
out  with  them  to  the  end  till  I  gained  the  victory.  But  I 
can't  expose  Marian — dear,  gently  nurtured,  tender  Marian 
— to  the  gibes  and  scorn  of  these  ill-mannered  planter 
people.  She  shall  never  again  submit  to  the  insult  and 
contumely  she  has  had  to  endure  this  morning. — No,  no, 
Marian,  darling,  we  shall  go  back  to  England — back  to 
England — back  to  England  1' 

•  And  why,  father,'  Marian  asked,  looking  up  at  him 
suddenly,  *  didn't  you  yourself  leave  the  country  long 
ago  ?  Why  didn't  you  go  where  you  could  mix  on  equtd 
terms  with  your  natural  equals  ?  "Why  have  you  stood  so 
long  this  horrible,  wicked,  abominable  injustice  ?  * 

The  old  ma^^  straightened  himself  up,  and  fire  flashed 
from  his  eyes  like  an  old  Uon's  as  he  answered  proudly : 
*  For  Edward — for  Edward  I  First  of  all,  I  stopped  here 
and  worked  to  enable  me  to  brinfr  up  my  boy  where  his 
talents  would  have  the  fullest  scope — in  free  England. 
Next,  when  I  liad  grown  rich  and  prosperous  here  at 
Agualta,  I  stopped  on  because  I  wouldn't  be  beaten  in  the 
battle  and  diiven  out  of  the  country  by  the  party  of 
injustice  and  social  intolerance.  I  wouldn't  yield  to  them ; 
I  wouldn't  give  vay  to  them ;  I  wouldn't  turn  my  back 
upon  the  baffled  and  defeated  clique  of  slave-owners, 
because,  though  my  father  was  an  English  officer,  my 
mother  was  a  slave,  Marian  1 ' 

He  looked  so  grand  and  noble  an  old  man  as  he  uttered 
simply  and  unaffectedly  those  last  few  words — the  pathetic 
epitaph  of  a  terrible  dead  and  buried  wrong,  still  surviving 
in  its  remote  effects — that  Marian  threw  her  arms  around 
his  neck  passionately,  and  kissed  him  with  one  fervent  kiss 
of  love  and  admiration,  almost  as  tenderly  as  she  had 
kissed  Edward  himself  in  the  heat  of  the  first  strange 
discovery. 

*  Edward,'  she  cried,  with  resolute  enthusiasm,  *  we  will 
not  go  home  t  We  will  not  return  to  England.  We,  too, 
will  stay  and  fight  out  the  cruel  battle  against  thii  wicked 


12S 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


prejudico.  We  will  do  as  your  father  has  done.  I  love 
him  for  it — I  honour  him  for  it  t  To  me  it's  less  than 
nothing,  my  darling,  my  darling,  that  you  should  seem  to 
have  some  small  taint  by  birth  in  the  eyes  of  these  miser- 
able, little,  outlying  islanders.  To  me,  it's  less  than 
nothing  that  they  should  dare  to  look  down  upon  you,  and 
to  set  themselves  up  against  you — you,  so  great,  so  learned, 
so  good,  so  infinitely  nobler  than  them,  and  better  than 
them  in  every  way  I  Who  are  they,  the  wretched,  ignorant, 
out-of-the-way  creatures,  that  they  venture  to  set  themselves 
up  as  our  superiors?  I  will  not  yield,  either.  I'm  my 
father's  daughter,  and  I  won't  give  way  to  them.  Zdward, 
Edward,  darling  Edward,  we  will  stop  here  still,  we  will 
stop  here  and  defeat  them ! ' 

*  My  darling,'  Edward  answered,  kissing  her  forehead 
tenderly,  *  you  don't  know  what  ;ou  say ;  you  don't  realise 
what  it  would  be  Hke  for  us  to  live  here.  I  can't  expose 
you  to  so  much  misery  and  awkwardness.  It  would  be 
wrong  of  me — uimanly  of  me — cowardly  of  me — to  let  my 
wife  be  constantly  met  with  such  abominable,  undeserved 
insult  I ' 

'  Cowardly  1  Edward,*  Marian  cried,  stamping  her 
pretty  little  foot  upon  the  ground  impatiently  with  womanly 
emphasis,  *  cowardly — co\«rardly !  The  cowardice  is  all  the 
other  way,  I  fancy.  I'm  not  ashamed  of  my  husband,  here 
or  anywhere.  I  love  you ;  I  adore  you ;  I  admire  you ;  I 
respect  you.  But  I  can  never  again  respect  you  so  much 
if  you  run  away,  even  for  my  sake,  from  this  unworthy 
prejudice.  I  don't  want  to  live  here  always,  for  ever :  God 
forbid !  I  hate  and  detest  it.  But  I  shall  stop  here  a  year 
— two  years — three  years,  if  I  hke,  just  to  show  the  hateful 
creatures  I  love  you  and  admire  you,  and  I'm  not  a&aid  of 
theml* 

'No,  no,  mv  child,*  old  Mk.  Hawthorn  murmured 
tenderly,  smootning  her  forehead;  'this  is  no  home  for 
you,  Marian.  Go  back  to  England — go  back  to  England  1  * 
Marian  turned  to  him  with  feverish  energy.  *  Father,'  she 
oried,  '  dear,  good,  kind,  gentle,  loving  father  I  You've 
taught  me  better  yourself;  your  own  words  have  taught  mt 
better.    I  won't  give  way  to  them ;  I'll  stop  in  ih«  land 


nr  ALL  sffADsa 


IM 


where  yon  have  stopped,  and  I'll  show  them  I'm  not 
ashamed  of  yoa  or  of  Edward  either !  Ashamed !  I'm 
only  ashamed  to  say  the  word.  What  is  there  in  either  of 
yon  for  a  woman  not  to  be  proud  of  with  all  the  deepest 
and  hoUest  pride  in  her  whole  nature  ? ' 

*  My  darling,  my  darling,'  Edward  answered  thought- 
folly,  *  we  shaU  have  to  think  and  talk  more  with  ona 
another  about  this  wretohed,  miserable  biuunesa.* 


OHAPTEB  XVL 

Thb  very  next  morning,  as  Edward  and  Marian  were  still 
loitering  over  the  mangoes  and  bananas  at  eleven  o'clock 
breakfast — the  West  Indies  keep  Continental  hours — they 
were  surprised  and  pleased  by  hearing  a  pony's  tramp 
cease  suddenly  at  the  front  door,  and  Nora  Dupuy's  well- 
known  voice  calling  out  as  cheerily  and  childishly  as  ever : 
'  Marian,  Marian !  you  dear  old  thing,  please  send  some* 
body  out  here  at  once,  to  hold  my  horse  for  a  minute,  will 
you?' 

The  words  fell  upon  both  their  ears  just  then  as  an 
oasis  in  the  desert  of  isolation  from  women's  society,  to 
which  they  had  been  condemned  for  the  last  ten  days.  The 
tears  rose  quickly  into  Marian's  eyes  at  those  familiar 
accents,  and  she  ran  out  hastily,  with  arms  outstretched,  to 
meet  her  one  remaining  girl-acquaintance.  '  0  Nora, 
Nora,  darling  Nora  I '  she  cried,  catching  the  bright  Uttle 
figure  lovingly  in  her  arms,  as  Nora  leaped  with  easy  grace 
from  her  mountain  pony,  •  why  didn't  you  come  before,  my 
darling  ?  Why  did  you  leave  me  so  long  alone,  and  make 
us  think  you  had  forgotten  all  about  us  ? ' 

Nora  flung  herself  passionately  upon  her  friend's  neck, 
and  between  laughing  and  crying,  kissed  her  over  and  over 
again  so  many  times  without  speaking,  that  Marian  knew 
at  once  in  her  heart  it  was  all  right  there  at  least,  and  that 
Nora,  for  one,  wasn't  going  to  desert  them.  Then  the 
poor  girl,  still  uncertain  whether  to  cry  or  laugh,  rushed 
up  to  Edward  and  seised  his  hand  with  such  warmth  of 


IM 


nr  ILL  BWADE8 


friendliness,  that  Marian  half  imn.gined  she  was  going  to 
kiss  him  fervently  on  the  spot,  in  her  accoss  of  emotion. 
And  indeed,  in  the  violence  of  her  feeling,  Nora  very  nearly 
did  fling  her  arms  around  Edward  Hawthorn,  whom  she 
had  learned  to  regard  on  the  way  out  almost  in  the  light  of 
an  adopted  brother. 

'  My  darling,'  Nora  cried  vehemently,  as  soon  as  she 
could  find  space  for  utterance,  *  my  pet,  my  own  sweet 
Marian,  you  dear  old  thing,  you  darling,  you  sweetheart  I — 
I  didn't  know  about  it ;  they  never  told  me.  Papa  and  Tom 
have  been  deceiving  me  disgracefully :  thsy  said  you  were 
away  up  at  Agualta,  and  that  you  particularly  wished  to 
receive  no  visitors  until  you'd  got  comfortably  settled  in  at 
your  new  quarters  here  at  Mulberry.  And  I  said  to  papa, 
nonsense  !  that  that  didn't  apply  to  me,  and  that  you'd  be 
delighted  to  see  me  wherever  and  whenever  I  chose  to  call 
upon  you.  And  papa  said — 0  Marian,  I  can't  bear  to  tell 
you  what  he  said  :  it's  so  wicked,  so  dreadful — papa  said 
that  he'd  met  Mr.  Hawthorn — Edward,  I  mean — and  that 
Edward  had  told  him  you  didn't  wish  at  present  to  see  me, 
because — well,  because,  he  said,  you  thought  our  circles 
would  be  so  very  different.  And  I  couldn't  imagine  what 
he  meant,  so  I  asked  him.  And  then  he  told  me — he  told 
me  that  horrid,  wicked,  abominable,  disgraceful  calumny. 
And  I  jumped  up  and  said  it  was  a  he — yes,  I  said  a  lie, 
Marian — I  didn't  say  a  story  ;  I  said  it  was  a  lie,  and  I 
didn't  beheve  it.  But  if  it  was  true — and  I  don't  care  my- 
self a  bit  whether  it's  true  or  whether  it  isn't — I  said  it 
was  a  mean,  cowardly,  nasty  thing  to  go  and  rake  it  up 
now  about  two  such  people  as  yon  and  Edward,  darling. 
And  whether  it's  true  or  whether  it  isn't,  Marian,  I  love 
you  both  dearly  with  all  my  heart,  and  I  shall  always  love 
you  ;  and  I  don't  care  a  pin  who  on  earth  hears  me  say  so.' 
And  then  Nora  broke  down  at  once  into  a  flood  of  tears, 
and  flung  herself  once  more  with  passionate  energy  on 
Marian's  shoulder. 

'  Nora  darhng,"  Marian  whispered,  crying  too,  '  I'm 
so  glad  you've  come  at  last,  dearest.  I  didn't  mind  any 
of  the  rest  a  bit,  because  they're  nothing  to  me;  it 
doesn't  matter;  but  when  I  thought  you  had  forgotten 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


126 


Qff  and  given  ni  np,  it  made  my  heart  bleed,  darling, 
darling !  * 

Nora  8  tears  began  afresh.  *  Why,  pet,'  she  said,  'rve 
been  trying  to  get  away  to  come  and  see  you  every  day  for 
the  last  week;  and  papa  wouldn't  let  mo  Lave  the  horses; 
and  I  didn't  knew  the  way ;  and  it  was  too  far  to  walk : 
and  I  didn't  know  what  on  earth  to  do,  or  how  to  get  to 
vcn.  But  last  night  papa  and  Tom  came  home ' — here 
Nora's  face  burned  violently,  and  she  buried  it  in  her  hands 
to  hide  her  vicarious  shamo, — '  and  I  heard  them  talidng  in 
the  piazza:  and  I  couldn't  understand  it  all;  but,  O 
Marian,  I  understood  enough  to  know  that  they  had  called 
upon  you  here  without  me,  and  that  they  had  behaved 
most  abominably,  most  cruelly,  to  you  and  Edward.  And 
I  went  out  to  the  piazza,  as  white  as  a  sheet,  Hosina  says, 
and  I  said :  *'  Papa,  you  have  acted  as  no  gentleman  would 
act ;  and  as  for  you,  Tom  Dupuy,  I'm  heartily  ashamed  to 
think  you're  my  own  cousin  I  "  and  then  I  went  straight 
np  to  my  bedroom  that  minute,  and  haven't  said  a  word  to 
either  of  them  ever  since  I ' 

Marian  kissed  her  once  more,  and  prf^^ssed  the  tearful 
girl  tight  against  her  bosom — that  sisterly  embrace  seemed 
to  her  now  such  an  unspeakable  consolation  and  comfort. 
'And  how  did  you  get  away  this  morning,  dear?'  she 
asked  softly. 

'  Oh,'  Nora  exclaimed,  with  a  childish  smile  and  a  little 
cry  of  triumph,  *  I  was  determined  to  come,  Marian,  and 
so  I  came  here.  I  got  Kosina — that's  my  maid,  such  a 
nice  black  girl — to  get  her  lover,  Isaac  FourtalSs,  who 
isn't  one  of  our  servants,  you  know,  to  saddle  the  pony  for 
me ;  because  papa  had  told  our  groom  I  wasn't  to  have  the 
horses  without  his  orders,  or  to  go  to  your  house  if  the 

froom  was  with  me,  or  else  he'd  dismiss  him.  So  Isaac 
ourtaUs,  he  saddled  it  for  me ;  and  Bosina  ran  all  the 
way  here  to  show  me  the  road  till  she  got  nearly  to  the  last 
oomer ;  but  she  wouldn't  come  on  and  hold  the  pony  for  me, 
for  if  die  did,  she  said,  de  massa  would  knock  de  very  breff 
out  of  her  body;  and  I  really  believe  he  would  too, 
Marian,  for  papa's  a  dreadful  man  to  deal  with  when  he's 
in  a  passion.' 


IM 


177  ALL  8BADB8 


'But  won't  he  be  awfully  angry  with  Ton,  darling/ 
Marian  asked,  'for  coming  here  when  he  told  yon 
not  to?* 

*  Of  eoorse  he  will/  Nora  replied,  drawing  herself  np 
•ad  laughing  quietW.  '  But  I  don't  care  a  bit,  you  know, 
for  all  his  anger,  i'm  not  going  to  keep  away  from  a  dear 
old  darling  Uke  you,  and  a  dear,  good,  kind  fellow  Uke 
Edward,  all  for  nothing,  just  to  please  him.  He  may 
itorm  away  as  long  as  he  has  a  mind  to ;  but  I  tell  you 
what,  my  dear,  he  won't  prevent  me.' 

*  I  don't  mind  a  bit  about  it  now,  Nora,  since  you're 
oome  at  last  to  me.' 

'  Mind  it,  darling  t  I  should  think  not  I  Why  on  earth 
should  you  mind  it?  It's  too  preposterous!  Why, 
Marian,  whenever  1  think  of  it — though  I'm  a  West 
Indian  bom  myself,  and  dreadfully  prejudiced,  and  all  that 
wicked  sort  of  thing,  you  know — ^it  seems  to  me  the  most 
ridiculous  nonsense  I  ever  heard  of.  Just  consider  what 
kind  of  people  these  are  out  here  in  Trinidad,  and  what 
kind  of  people  you  and  Edward  are,  and  all  your  friends 
over  in  England  t  There's  my  cousin,  Tom  Dupuy,  now, 
for  example ;  what  a  pretty  sort  of  fellow  he  is,  really  1 
Even  if  I  didn't  care  a  pin  for  you,  I  couldn't  give  way  to 
it ;  and  as  it  is,  I'm  going  to  come  here  just  as  often  as 
ever  I  please,  and  nobody  shall  stop  me.  Papa  and  Tom 
are  always  talking  about  the  fightmg  Dupuys ;  but  I  can 
teU  you  tney'll  find  I'm  one  of  the  fighting  Dupuys  too,  if  they 
want  to  fight  me  about  it. — Now,  tell  me,  Marian,  doesn't  it 
seem  to  you  yourself  the  most  ridiculous  reversal  of  the 
natural  order  of  things  vou  ever  heard  of  in  all  your  life, 
that  these  people  here  should  pretend  to  set  themselves  up 
as — as  being  in  any  way  your  equals,  darling  ? '  And  Nora 
laughed  a  merry  little  laugh  of  pure  amusement,  so  con- 
tagious that  Edward  and  Marian  joined  in  it  too,  for  the 
first  time  almost  since  thev  came  to  that  dreadful  Trinidad. 

Companionship  and  '\  fresh  point  of  view  lighten  most 
things.  Nora  stopped  with  the  two  Hawthorns  all  that  day 
till  nearly  dinner-time,  talking  and  laughing  with  them 
much  as  usual  after  the  first  necessary  explanations ;  and 
by   five   o'dook   Marian   and   Edward   were   positively 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


m 


ashamed  themselves  that  the^  had  ever  made  so  mnch  of 
what  grew  with  thinking  on  it  into  so  absurdly  small  and 
unimportant  a  matter.  *  Upon  my  word,  Marian,'  Edward 
said,  as  Nora  rode  away  gaily  miprotected — she  positively 
wouldn't  allow  him  to  accompany  her  homeward — *  I  really 
begin  to  believe  it  would  be  better,  after  all,  to  stop  in 
Trinidad  and  fight  it  out  bravely  as  well  as  we're  able  for 
just  a  year  or  two.' 

*  I  thought  so  from  the  first,'  Marian  answered  courage- 
ously ;  '  and  now  that  Nora  Las  cheered  as  up  a  little,  I 
think  so  a  great  deal  more  than  ever.' 

When  Nora  reached  Orange  Grove,  Mr.  Dupuy  stood, 
black  as  thunder,  waiting  to  receive  her  in  the  piazza. 
Two  negro  man-servants  were  loitering  about  casually  in 
the  doorway. 

*  Nora,'  he  said,  in  a  voice  of  stem  displeasure, '  have 
you  been  to  visit  these  new  nigger  people  ?  ' 

Nora  glanced  back  at  him  defiantly  and  haughtily.  '  I 
have  not,'  she  answered  with  a  steady  stare.  '  I  have  been 
calling  upon  my  very  dear  friends,  the  District  Court  Judge 
and  Mrs.  Hawthorn,  who  are  both  our  equals.  I  am  not 
in  the  habit  of  associating  with  what  you  choose  to  call 
nigger  people.' 

Mr.  Dupuy's  face  grew  purple  once  more.  He  glanced 
round  quickly  at  the  two  men-servants.  '  Go  to  your 
room,  miss,'  he  said  with  suppressed  rage — 'go  to  your 
room,  and  stop  there  till  I  send  for  you  1 ' 

'I  was  going  there  myself,'  Nora  answered  calmly, 
without  moving  a  muscle.  '  I  mean  to  remain  there,  and 
hold  no  communication  with  the  rest  of  the  family,  as  long 
as  you  choose  to  apply  such  unjust  and  untrue  names  to 
my  deal  est  friends  and  oldest  companions. — Bosina,  come 
here,  please!  Have  the  kindness  to  bring  me  up  some 
dinner  to  my  own  boudoir ;  will  you,  Kosina  f ' 


f 


\l 


!   '  . 


128 


IN  ALL  anADES 


CHAPTER  XVIL 

It  was  the  very  next  day  when  the  Governor's  wife  oame 
to  call.  In  any  case,  Lady  Modyford  would  have  had  to 
call  on  Marian :  for  etiquette  demanus,  from  the  head  of 
the  colony  at  least,  a  strict  disregard  for  distinctions  of 
cuticle,  real  or  imaginary.  But  Nora  Dupuy  had  seen 
Lady  Modyford  that  very  morning,  and  had  told  her  all 
the  absurd  story  of  the  Hawthorns'  social  disqualifications. 
Now,  the  Governor's  wife  was  a  woman  of  the  world, 
accustomed  to  many  colonial  societies,  big  and  small,  as 
well  as  to  the  infinitely  greater  world  of  London ;  and  she 
was  naturally  moved,  at  first  hearing,  rather  to  amuse- 
ment than  to  indignation  at  the  idea  of  Tom  Dupuy  settmg 
himself  up  as  the  social  superior  of  a  fellow  of  Catherine's 
and  barrister  of  the  Inner  Temple.  This  point  of  view  it- 
self certainly  lost  nothing  &om  Nora's  emphatic  way  of 
putting  it ;  for,  though  Nora  had  herself  a  bountiful  supply 
of  fine  old  crusted  West  Indian  prejudices,  producible  on 
occasion,  and  looked  down  upon  *  brown  people '  of  every 
shade  with  that  peouharly  profound  contempt  possible  only 
to  a  descendant  of  the  old  vanquished  slave-owning 
ohgarchy,  yet.  her  personal  aifection  for  Marian  and  Ed- 
ward was  quite  strong  enough  to  override  all  such  abstract 
considerations  of  invisible  colour ;  and  her  sense  of  humour 
was  quite  keen  enough  to  make  her  feel  the  full  ridiculous- 
ness of  comparing  such  a  man  as  Edward  Hawthorn  with 
her  own  loutish  sugar-growing  cousin.  She  had  lived  so 
long  in  England,  as  Tom  Dupuy  himself  would  have  said, 
that  she  had  beg'm  to  ^ick  up  at  least  some  faint  tincture 
of  these  new-fangled,  radical,  Exeter  Hall  opinions ;  in 
other  words,  she  had  acquired  a  httle  ballast  of  common 
sense  and  knowledge  of  hfe  at  large  to  weigh  down  in  part 
her  tolerably  large  original  cargo  of  colonial  prejudices. 

But  when  Nora  came  to  tell  Lady  Modyford,  as  far  aa 
she  knew  them,  the  indignities  to  which  the  Hawthorns 
had  already  been  subjeoted  by  Uie  puro  blao  blood  of 


IN  ALL   SHADFS 


1S9 


Trinidad,  the  Governor's  wife  began  to  perceive  there  was 
more  in  it  than  matter  for  mere  laughter ;  and  she  bridled 
np  a  little  haughtily  at  the  mention  of  Mr.  Tom  Dupuy's 
free-spoken  comments,  as  overheard  by  Nora  on  the  Orange 
Grove  piazza.  'Nigger  people!'  the  fat,  good-natured, 
motherly  little  body  echoed  angrily.  '  Did  he  say  nigger 
people,  mv  dear  ? — What  I  a  daughter  of  General  Ord  of 
the  Bengal  infantry — ^why,  I  came  home  from  Singapore  in 
the  same  steamer  with  her  mother,  the  year  my  father 
went  away  from  the  Straits  Settlements  to  South  Australia  I 
Do  yon  mean  to  say,  my  dear,  they  won't  call  upon  her, 
because  she's  married  a  son  of  that  nice  old  Mr.  Hawthorn 
with  the  white  beard  up  at  Agualta  1  A  perfect  gentleman, 
too  I  Dear  me,  hew  very  abominable  I  You  must  excuse 
my  saying  it,  my  child,  but  really  you  West  Indian  people 
do  mistake  your  own  little  hole  and  comer'  for  the  great 
world,  in  a  most  extraordinary  sort  of  a  fashion.  Now, 
confess  to  me,  don't  you  ? ' 

So  the  same  afternoon.  Lady  Modyford  had  powdered 
her  round,  fat  little  face,  and  put  on  her  pretty  coquettish 
French  bonnet,  and  driven  round  in  full  state  from  Govern- 
ment House  to  Edward  Hawthorn's  new  bungalow  in  the 
Westmoreland  valleys. 

As  the  carriage  with  its  red-liveried  black  footmen 
drove  np  to  the  door,  Marian's  heart  sank  once  more 
within  her :  she  knew  it  was  the  Governor's  wife  come  to 
call ;  and  she  had  a  vague  presentiment  in  her  own  mind 
that  the  fat  little  woman  inside  the  carriage  would  send  in 
her  card  out  of  formal  politeness,  and  drive  away  at  once 
without  waiting  to  see  her.  But  instead  of  that.  Lady 
Modyford  came  up  the  steps  with  great  demureness,  and 
walked  into  the  bare  drawing-room,  after  Marian's  rather 
untidy  and  quite  raw  black  waiting-maid ;  and  the  moment 
she  saw  Marian,  she  stepped  up  to  her  very  impulsively, 
and  held  out  both  her  hands,  and  kissed  the  poor  young 
bride  on  either  cheek  with  genuine  tenderness.  *  My  dear,' 
she  said,  with  a  motherly  tremor  in  her  kind  old  voice, 
'you  must  forgive  me  for  making  myself  quite  at  home 
with  you  at  once,  and  not  standing  upon  ceremony  in  any 
way ;  but  I  knew  your  mother  years  ago — she  was  just 


130 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


like  you  then — and  I  know  wliat  a  lonely  thing  it  is  for  a 
newly-married  girl  to  coiiio  out  to  a  country  like  this,  quite 
away  from  her  own  people  ;  and  I  shall  be  so  glad  if  you'll 
take  Sir  Adalbert  and  me  just  as  we  are.  We're  homely 
people,  and  we  don't  live  far  away  from  you ;  and  if  you'll 
run  round  and  see  me  an;,  time  you  feel  lonely  or  are  in 
want  of  anythinf^,  why,  you  know,  of  course,  my  dear,  we 
shall  be  delighted  to  see  you.' 

And  then,  before  Marian  could  wipe  away  the  tears  that 
rose  quickly  to  her  eyes,  fat  little  Lady  IModyford  had  gone 
oflf  into  reminiscences  of  Singapore  and  Bombay,  and  that 
dear  Mrs.  Ord,  and  the  baby  that  died — *  Your  sister,  you 
know,  my  dear — the  one  that  was  born  at  Calcutta,  and 
died  soon  after  your  dear  mamma  readied  England. —  No, 
of  course,  my  dear ;  your  mamma  couldn't  know  that  I  was 
here,  because,  you  see,  when  she  and  I  came  home  together 
— why,  that  was  twenty-two  years  ago— no,  twenty-four,  I 
declare,  because  Sir  Adalbert— he  was  plain  Mr.  Modyford 
then,  on  three  hundred  a  year,  in  the  Straits  Settlements 
colonial  service — didn't  propose  to  me  till  tlie  next  summer, 
when  he  came  home  on  leave,  you  know,  just  before  he 
was  removed  to  Ilong-kong  by  that  horrid  Lord  Modbury, 
who  was  Colonial  Secretary  in  those  days,  and  afterwards 
died  of  suppressed  gout,  the  doctors  said,  which  I  call  D.  T., 
at  his  own  villa  at  that  delightful  Spezzia.  So  you  see  I 
was  Kitty  Fitzroy  at  that  time,  my  child ;  and  I  dare  say 
your  mamma,  wlio's  older  tlian  me  a  good  bit,  of  course, 
never  heard  about  my  marrying  Sir  Adalbert,  for  we  were 
married  very  quietly  down  in  Devonsliire,  where  Sir 
Adalbert's  father  was  rector  in  a  very  small  parish,  on  a 
tiny  income ;  and  we  started  at  once  for  Hong-kong,  and 
spent  our  honeymoon  at  Venice — a  nasty,  damp,  uncom- 
fortahlo  place  for  a  wedding  tour,  I  call  it,  but  not  nearly 
so  bad  as  you  coming  out  here  straight  from  the  church 
door  almost,  Miss  Dupuy  told  me  ;  and  Trinidad  too,  well 
known  to  be  an  unsociable,  dead-alive  sort  of  an  island. 
But  whenever  you  like,  dear,  you  must  just  jump  on  your 
horse — you've  got  horses,  of  course  ?— yes,  I  thought  so— 
and  ride  over  to  Government  House,  and  have  a  good  oLai 
with  me  and  Emily ;  for,  indeed,  Mrs.  Hawthorn— what'f 


nr  ALL  BEADEB 


m 


yoTU   Ohristian    name? — Marian — ah,    ▼ery   prettT — we 

should  like  to  see  you  as  often  as  you  choose ;  and  next 
week,  after  you've  settled  down  a  little,  you  must  really 
come  up  and  stop  some  time  with  us ;  for  I  assure  you  I've 
quite  taken  a  fancy  to  you,  my  dear ;  and  Sir  Adalbert, 
when  he  saw  Mr.  Hawthorn,  the  other  day,  at  the  Island 
Secretary's  oilice,  came  home  quite  delighted,  and  8«:;id  to 
me :  "  Kitty,  the  young  man  they've  sent  out  for  the  new 
District  judge  is  the  very  man  to  keep  that  something  old 
fool  Dupuy  in  order  in  future."  ' 

Lady  Modyford  waited  a  good  deal  longer  than  is  usual 
with  a  first  call,  and  got  very  friendly  indeed  with  poor 
Marian  before  the  end  of  her  visit;  for,  coarse-grained 
woman  of  the  world  as  she  was,  her  heart  warmed  not 
a  little  towards  the  friendless  young  bride  who  had  come 
out  to  Trinidad — dull  hole,  Trinidad,  not  at  all  like 
Singapore,  or  Mauritius,  or  Cape  Town — to  find  herself 
BO  utterly  deserted  by  all  society.  And  next  day,  all  female 
Trinidad  was  talking  over  five  o'clock  tea  about  the  re- 
markable fact,  learnt  indirectly  through  those  unrecognised 
purveyors  of  fashionable  intelligonco,  the  servants,  that 
that  horrid  proud  Lady  Modyford — '  »vho  treats  you  and 
me,  iny  dear,  as  if  we  were  the  dirt  beneath  her  feet,  don't 
you  know,  and  must  call  with  two  footmen  and  so  much 
grandeur  and  formality  ' — had  actually  kissed  that  brown 
man's  wife,  that's  to  be  the  new  District  judge  in  West- 
moreland, on  both  cheeks,  the  yivy  lirst  moment  she  saw 
her.  Female  Trinidad  was  so  inexpressibly  shocked  at  this 
disgraceful  behaviour  in  a  person  oflicially  charged  with 
the  maintenance  of  a  high  standard  of  decorum,  that  it  was 
really  half  inclined  to  think  it  ought  to  cut  Lady  Mt)dyford 
direct  on  next  meeting  her.  It  was  restrained  from  this 
extreme  measure,  however,  by  a  wholesome  consideration 
of  the  fact  that  Lady  Modyford  would  undoubtedly  take  the 
rebuff  v.'ith  miruiiled  amusement ;  so  it  contented  itself  by 
merely  showing  a  little  coldness  to  the  Governor's  wifo 
when  it  happened  to  meet  her,  and  refusing  to  enter  into 
conversation  with  her  on  the  subject  of  Marian  and  Edward 
Hawthorn. 

As  for  Marian  herself,  tihe  had  a  good  erj,  as  soon  as 


132 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


Lady  Modyford  was  gone,  over  this  interview  also.    Kind 
the  Governor's  wife  had  wished  to  show  herself,  and 


as 


genumely  sympathetic  as  she  had  actually  heen,  Marian 
couldn't  help  recognising  that  there  was  a  certain  profound 
undercurrent  of  degradation  in  having  to  accept  the  ready 
sympathy  of  such  a  woman  at  all  on  such  a  matter.  Any- 
where else,  Marian  would  have  felt  that  Lady  Modyford, 
motherly  as  she  was,  stood  just  a  grade  or  two  by  nature 
below  her ;  in  fact,  she  felt  so  there  too  ;  but  still  she  was 
compelled  by  circumstances  to  take  the  good  fat  body's 
consolation  and  condolence  as  a  sort  of  favour  ;  while  any« 
where  else  she  would  rather  have  repelled  it  as  a  disagree- 
able impertinence,  or  at  least  as  a  distasteful  interference 
with  her  own  individuality.  It  was  impossible  not  to  be 
dimly  conscious  that  coming  to  Trinidad  had  made  a  real 
difference  in  her  own  social  position.  At  home,  she  had 
no  need  for  anybody's  condescension  or  anybody's  affability ; 
here,  she  was  forced  to  recognise  the  fact  that  even  Lady 
Modyford  was  making  generous  concessions  on  pi-  "v  se  in 
her  favour.  It  was  galling,  but  it  was  inevitable.  There 
is  nothing  more  painful  to  persons  who  have  always  mixed 
in  society  on  terms  of  perfect  and  undoubted  equality,  than 
thus  to  put  themselves  into  false  positions,  where  it  is 
possible  for  equals,  or  even  for  natural  inferiors,  to  seem 
to  patronise  them. 

Nevertheless,  that  evening  Marian  said  to  Edward  very 
firmly  :  *  Edward,  you  must  make  up  your  mind  to  stop  in 
Trinidad.  I  shall  never  feel  so  much  confidence  again  in 
your  real  courage  if  you  turn  and  rim  from  Nora's  father, 
besides,  now  Lady  ]\Iodyford  has  called,  and  Nora  has  been 
here,  I  dare  say  we  shall  get  a  little  society  of  our  own — 
people  who  know  too  much  about  the  outer  world  to  Ijy 
wholly  governed  by  the  fads  and  foncies  of  Trinidati 
planters.' 

And  Edward  answered  in  a  somewhat  faltering  voice : 
*  Very  well,  my  darling.  One's  duty  lies  that  way,  1  know ; 
and  if  you're  strong  enough  to  stand  up  and  face  it,  why, 
I  must  try  to  face  it  also.* 

And  they  did  face  it,  with  less  difficulty  even  than  tliey 
ftt  first  imagined.    Presently,  Mrs.  Castello  came  to  call, 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


18d 


the  wife  of  the  Governor's  aide-de-camp ;  a  pretty,  pleasant, 
sisterly  little  woman,  who  struck  up  a  mutual  attachment 
with  Marian  almost  at  first  sight,  and  often  dropped  in  to 
see  them  afterwards.  Then  one  or  two  others  of  the 
Enghsh  officials  brought  their  wives ;  and  before  long, 
when  Marian  went  to  stay  at  Government  House,  it  was 
clear  that  in  the  imported  official  society  at  any  rate  the 
Hawthorns  were  to  oe  at  least  tolerated.  Toleration  ic 
a  miserable  sort  of  standing  for  people  to  submit  to  ;  but 
in  the  last  resort,  it  is  better  than  isolation.  And  as  time 
went  on,  the  toleration  grew  into  friendliness  and  intimacy 
in  many  quarters,  though  never  among  the  native  planter 
aristocracy.  Those  noble  people,  intensely  proud  of  their 
pure  white  blood,  held  themselves  entirely  aloof  with  pro- 
found dignity.  •  Poor  souls  ! '  Sir  Adalbert  Modyford  said 
contemptuously  to  Captain  Gastello,  '  they  forget  how  little 
it  is  to  be  proud  of,  and  that  every  email  street  Arab  in 
London  could  consider  himself  a  gentleman  in  Trinidad 
on  the  very  selfisame  grounds  of  birth  as  they  do.* 


oaiPTER  xvm. 

Thbbb  was  ffreat  excitement  in  the  District  Court  at 
Westmoreland  one  sunny  morning,  a  few  days  later,  for 
the  new  judge  was  to  sit  and  hear  an  appeal,  West  Indian 
fashion,  from  a  magistrate's  decision  iu  the  case  of  Delgado 
verstis  Dupuy.  The  httle  court-house  in  the  low  parochial 
buildings  of  Westmoreland  was  crowded  with  an  eager 
throng  of  excited  negroes.  Much  buzzing  and  humming 
of  voices  filled  the  room,  for  it  was  noised  abroad  among 
the  blacks  that  '^listah  Hawtom,  being  a  bi'o^vn  man 
born,  was  likely  to  curry  favour  with  the  buckras — as 
brown  men  will — by  giving  unjust  decisions  in  their  favour 
against  the  black  men ;  and  this  was  a  very  important  case 
for  the  agricultural  negroes,  as  it  all'ected  a  question  of  pay- 
ing wages  for  work  performed  in  the  Pimento  Valley  uane- 
pieces. 

Bosina  Fleming  was  there  among  the  crowd ;  and  as 


It4 


IN  ALL  BHADEB 


y !' 


Louis  Delgado,  the  appellant  in  the  case,  came  into  court, 
he  paused  for  a  moment  to  whisper  hurriedlv  a  few  words 
to  her.  *  De  med'cine  hab  effeok  like  I  teU  yoa,  Missy 
Bosina  ? '  he  asked  in  an  undertone. 

Bosina  laughed  and  showed  her  white  teeth.  'Yes, 
Mistah  Delgado,  him  hab  effeck,  sah,  same  liJce  you  tell 
me.    Isaac  Pourtal^s,  him  lub  me  well  for  true,  nowadays.' 

*  Him  gwine  to  marry  you,  missy  ?  * 

Bosina  shook  her  head.  *  No ;  him  can't  done  dat,' 
she  answered  carelessly,  as  though  it  were  the  most  natural 
thing  in  the  world.    '  Him  got  anudder  wife  already.' 

'  Ha !  Him  got  wife  ober  in  Barbadoes  ? '  Delgado 
muttered.  'Him  doan't  nebber  tell  me  dat. — Well, 
Missy  Bosy,  I  want  you  bring  Isaac  PourtalSs  to  me  hut 
dis  one  day.  I  want  Isaac  to  help  me  wit  de  ^eat  an' 
terrible  day  ob  de  Lard.  De  cup  ob  de  Dupuys  is  full  dis 
day ;  an'  if  de  new  judge  gib  decision  wrongfully  agin  me, 
de  Lard  will  arise  soon  in  all  him  glory,  like  him  tell  de 
prophets,  an'  make  de  victory  for  him  own  people.' 

'  But  not  hurt  de  missy  ? '  Bosina  inquired  anxiously. 

*  Yah,  yahl  You  is  too  chupid.  Miss  Bosy,  I  tellin' 
Tou.  You  tink  when  de  Lard  bare  him  arm  in  him  wrat, 
nim  g>vine  to  turn  aside  in  de  day  ob  vengeance  for  your 
missy  ?  De  Dupuys  is  de  Lard's  enemy,  le-ady,  an'  he  will 
destroy  dem  utterly,  men  and  women.' 

Before  Bosina  could  find  time  to  reply,  there  was  a 
sudden  stir  in  the  body  of  ^he  court,  and  Edward  Hawthorn, 
entering  from  the  private  door  behind,  took  his  seat  upon 
the  judge's  bench  in  hushed  silence. 

'  Delgado  versus  Dupuy,  an  appeal  from  a  magistrate's 
order,  referred  to  this  court  as  bem^  under  twenty  shillings 
in  value. — Who  heard  the  case  m  the  first  instance?* 
Edward  inquired. 

'  Mr.  Dupuv  of  Orange  Grove  and  Mr.  Henley,'  Tom 
Dupuy,  the  deu^ndant,  answered  quietly. 

Edward's  forehead  puckered  up  a  little.  '  Yon  are  the 
detendant,  I  beheve,  Mr.  Thomas  Dupuy  ? '  he  said  to  the 
young  planter  with  a  curious  look. 

Tom  Dupuy  nodded  at^quiesceuce. 

'  And  the  ease  was  Iieard  in  the  fint  initanoe  by  Mr. 


IN  ALL  SHADSa 


185 


Theodore  Dnpiiy  of  Orange  Grove,  who,  if  I  am  rightly 
informed,  happens  to  be  your  own  uncle  ?  * 

'  Bightly  informed  I '  Tom  Dupuy  sneered  half  angrily 
— ^* rightly  informed,  indeed!  Why,  von  know  he  is,  of 
course,  as  well  as  I  do.  Didn't  we  both  call  upon  you 
together  the  other  day  ?  I  should  say,  considering  what 
sort  of  interview  we  had,  you  can't  already  have  quite  for- 
gotten it  I  * 

Edward  winced  a  Uttle,  but  answered  nothing.  He 
merely  allowed  the  plaintiff  to  be  put  in  the  box,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  listen  carefully  to  his  rambling  evidence.  It 
T/asn't  very  easy,  even  for  the  sharp,  half-Jewish  brown 
barrister  who  was  counsel  for  the  plaintiff,  to  get  anything 
very  clear  or  definite  out  of  Louis  Delgado  with  his  vague 
rhetoric.  Still,  by  dint  of  patient  hstening,  Edward 
Hawthorn  was  enabled  at  last  to  make  out  the  pith  and 
kernel  of  the  old  African's  excited  story.  He  worked,  it 
seemed,  at  times  on  Orange  Grove  estate,  and  at  times, 
alternately,  at  Pimento  Valley.  The  wages  on  both  estates, 
as  frequently  happens  in  such  cases,  were  liabitually  far  in 
arrears;  and  Delgado  claimed  for  many  days,  on  which, 
he  asserted,  he  had  been  working  at  Tom  Dupuy's  cane- 

Sieoes ;  while  Tom  Dupuy  had  entered  a  plea  of  never  in- 
ebted,  on  the  ground  that  no  entry  appeared  in  his  own 
book-keeper's  account  for  those  dates  of  Delgado's  presence. 
Mr.  Theodore  Dupuy  had  heard  the  case,  and  he  and  n 
brother  magistrate  had  at  once  decided  it  against  Delgado. 
*ButI  know,  sah,'  Delgado  said  vehemontly,  looking  up 
to  the  new  judge  with  a  certain  defiant  air,  as  of  a  man  who 
comes  prepared  for  injustice,  '  I  know  I  work  dem  days  at 
Pimento  Valley,  because  I  keep  book  meself,  an'  put  down 
in  him  in  me  own  hand  all  de  days  I  work  anywhere.' 

'  Oan  you  produce  the  book  ? '  Edward  inquired  of  the 
excited  negro. 

*It  isn't  any  use,'  Tom  Dupuy  interrupted  angrily. 
*  I've  seen  the  book  myself,  and  you  can't  read  it.  It's  all 
kept  in  some  heathenish  African  language  or  other.' 

'  I  must  request  you,  Mr.  Dupuy,  not  to  interrupt,' 
Edward  Hawthorn  said  in  his  sternest  voice.  '  Please  to 
remember,  I  beg  of  yoiif  that  this  room,  is  a  court  of  justice.' 


136 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


I 


'  Not  much  justice  here  for  white  men,  I  expect/  Tom 
Dapuy  muttered  to  himself  in  a  half-audible  undertone. 
*  The  niggers  '11  have  it  all  their  own  way  in  future,  of 
course,  now  they've  got  one  of  themselves  to  sit  upon  the 
bench  for  them.' 

'  Produce  the  book,'  Edward  said,  turning  to  Delgado, 
and  restraining  his  natural  anger  with  some  difficulty. 

'  It  doan't  no  good,  sah,'  the  African  answered,  with  a 
sigh  of  despondency,  pulling  out  a  greasy  account-book 
from  his  open  bosom,  and  turning  over  the  pages  slowly 
in  moody  silence.  'It  me  own  book,  dat  I  hab  for 
me  own  reference,  an'  I  keep  him  all  in  me  own  hand- 
writing.' 

Edward  held  out  his  hand  commandingly,  and  took  the 
greasy  small  volume  that  the  African  passed  over  to  him, 
with  some  little  amusement  and  surprise.  He  didn't 
expect,  of  course,  that  he  would  be  able  to  read  it,  but  he 
thought  at  least  he  ought  to  see  what  sort  of  accounts  the 
man  kept ;  they  would  at  any  rate  be  interesting,  as  throw- 
ing light  upon  negro  ideas  and  modes  of  reckoning.  He 
opened  the  book  the  negro  gave  him  and  turned  it  over 
hastily  with  a  languid  curiosity.  In  a  second,  a  curious 
change  came  visibly  over  his  startled  face,  and  he  uttered 
sharply  a  little  sudden  cry  of  unaffected  surprise  and 
astonishment.  •  Why,'  he  said  in  a  strangely  altered  voice, 
turning  once  more  to  the  dogged  African,  who  stood  there 
staring  at  him  in  stolid  indifference,  'what  on  earth  is 
the  meai.Iiig  of  this  ?    This  is  Arabic — excellent  Arabic  1 ' 

Eosina  Fleming,  looking  eagerly  from  in  front  at  the 
curious  characters,  saw  at  once  they  were  the  same  in  type 
as  the  writing  in  the  obeah  book  Delgado  had  showed  her 
the  evening  she  went  to  consult  him  at  his  hut  about  Isaac 
PourtalSs. 

Delgado  glanced  back  at  the  young  judge  with  a  face 
full  of  rising  distrust  and  latent  incredulity.  '  You  doan't 
can  read  it,  sah  ? '  he  asked  suspiciously.  '  It  African  talk. 
You  doan't  can  read  it  ? ' 

'Certainly  I  can,'  Edward  answered  with  a  smile. 
'It's  very  beautifully  and  clearly  written,  and  it's  all 
exceedingly  good  and  accurate  Arobio  entries.'    And  h« 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


187 


Tom 


read  a  word  or  two  of  the  entries  aloud,  in  proof  of  his 
ability  tc  decipher  at  sight  the  mysterious  characters. 

Delgado  in  turn  gave  a  sudden  start;  and  drawing 
himself  up  to  his  full  height,  with  new-bom  pride  and 
dignity,  he  burst  forth  at  onoe  into  a  few  sentences  in 
some  strange  foreign  tongue,  deep  and  guttural,  addressed 
apparently,  as  Tom  Dupuy  thought,  to  the  new  judge  in 
passionate  entreaty.  But  in  reality  the  African  was  asking 
Edward  Hawthorn,  earnestly  and  in  the  utmost  astonish- 
ment, whether  it  was  a  fact  that  he  could  really  and  truly 
speak  Arabic. 

Edward  answered  him  back  in  a  few  words,  rapidly 
spoken,  in  the  fluent  colloquial  Egyptian  dialect  which  he 
had  learnt  in  London  from  his  Mohammedan  teacher, 
Sheikh  Abdullah.  It  was  but  a  short  sentence,  but  it  wa^ 
quite  enough  to  convince  Delgado  that  he  did  positively 
understand  the  entries  in  the  account-book.  *  De  Lard  be 
praise  1 '  the  African  shouted  aloud  excitedly.  '  De  new 
judge,  him  can  read  de  book  I  keep  for  me  own  reckonin' ! 
De  Lard  be  praise !    Him  gwine  to  dehbber  me.' 

*  Did  ever  you  see  such  a  farce  in  your  life  ?  *  Tom 
Dupuy  whispered  in  a  stage  aside  to  his  Uncle  Theodore. 
*  I  don't  believe  the  fellow  understands  a  single  word  of 
it ;  and  I'm  sure  the  gibberish  they  were  talking  to  one 
another  can't  possibly  be  part  of  any  kind  of  liuiiian  lan- 
guage even  in  Africa.  And  yet,  after  all,  I  don't  know. 
The  fellow's  a  nigger  himself,  and  perhaps  he  may  really 
have  learnt  from  liis  own  people  some  of  their  confounded 
African  lingoes.  But  who  on  earth  would  ever  have 
believed.  Uncle  Theodore,  we'd  have  lived  to  hear  such 
trash  as  that  talked  openly  from  the  very  Bench  in  a 
Queen's  court  in  the  island  of  Trinidad  ? ' 

Edward  coloured  up  again  at  the  few  words  which  he 
caught  accidentally  of  this  ugly  monologue ;  but  he  only 
said  to  the  eager  African  :  *  I  cannot  speak  with  you  here 
in  Arabic,  Delgado ;  here  we  must  use  English  only.' 

'Certainly,'  Tom  Dupuy  suggested  aloud— colonial 
courts  are  even  laxer  than  English  ones.  '  We  mustn't 
forget,  of  course,  Mr.  Hawthorn,  as  you  said  just  now, 
that  this  room  is  a  court  of  justice.' 


Its 


IN  ALL  8HADE3 


The  young  jud|;e  tamed  over  the  book  to  conceal  hii 
chagrin,  and  examined  it  carefiilly.  '  What  are  the  dates 
in  dispute  ?  *  he  asked,  turning  to  the  counsel. 

Delgado  and  Tom  Dupuy  in  one  breath  gave  a  full  list 
of  them.  Counsel  handed  up  a  Uttle  written  slip  with  the 
various  doubtful  days  entered  carefully  upon  it  in  ordinary 
English  numbers.  Edward  ticked  them  off  one  by  one  in 
Delgado's  note-book,  quietly  to  himself,  smiling  as  he  did 
so  at  the  quaint  Arabic  translations  of  the  Grove  of  Oranges 
and  the  Valley  of  Pimento.  Every  one  of  Delgado's  dates 
was  quite  accurately  and  carefuUy  entered  in  his  own 
account-book. 

When  they  came  to  examine  Tom  Dupuy  and  his 
Scotch  book-keeper,  their  account  of  the  whole  transaction 
was  Car  less  definite,  clear,  and  consistent.  Tom  Dupuy, 
with  a  certain  airy  lordly  indifference,  admitted  that  his 
payments  were  often  in  arrears,  and  that  his  modes  uf 
book-keeping  were  often  somewhat  rough  and  ready.  He 
didn't  pretend  to  keep  an  account  personally  of  every  man's 
labour  on  his  whole  estate,  he  said ;  he  was  a  gentleman 
himself,  and  he  left  that  sort  of  thing,  of  course,  to  his 
book-keeper's  memory.  The  book-keeper  didn't  remember 
that  Loms  Delgado  had  worked  at  Pimento  Valley  on  those 
particular  disputed  mornings;  though,  to  be  sure,  one 
naturally  couldn't  be  quite  certain  about  it.  But  if  you 
were  going  to  begin  taking  a  nigger's  word  on  such  a 
matter  against  a  white  man's,  why,  what  possible  security 
against  false  charges  could  you  give  in  future  to  the  white 
planter  ? 

'  How  often  do  you  post  up  the  entries  in  that  book  ?  * 
Delgado's  counsel  asked  the  book-keeper  in  cross-examina- 
tion. 

The  book-keeper  was  quite  as  airy  and  easy  as  his 
master  in  this  matter.  '  Weel,  whiles  I  do  it  at  the  time/ 
he  answered  quietly,  *  an'  whiles  I  do  it  a  wee  bit  later.' 

'  An'  I  put  him  down  ebbery  evening,  de  minute  I  home, 
sah,  in  dis  note-book,'  Delgado  shouted  eagerly  with  a  fierce 
gestioolation. 

'  You  must  be  quiet,  please,*  Edward  said,  taming  to 
him.    '  You  mustn't  interrupt  the  witness  or  your  oounseL* 


IN  ALL  SHADBB 


own 


'  DicI  Delga(lo  work  at  Pimento  Valley  yesterday  ? '  the 
brown  barrister  asked,  looking  up  from  the  books  which 
Tom  Dupay  hod  been  forced  to  produce  and  h&..«I  m,  in 

evidence. 

The  book-keeper  hesitated  and  smiled  a  sinister  smile. 
'He  did,*  be  answered  after  a  moment's  brief  internal 
conflict. 

'  How  is  it,  then,  that  the  day's  work  isn't  entered  here 
already  ? '  the  brown  barrister  went  on  pitilessly. 

The  book-keeper  shufSed  with  an  uneasy  shufiQe.  '  Ah, 
weel,  I  should  have  entered  it  on  Saturday  evening,'  he 
answered  evasively. 

Edward  turned  to  Delgado's  note-book.  The  last  day's 
work  was  entered  properly  in  an  evidently  fresh  ink,  that 
of  the  previous  two  days  looking  proportionately  blacker 
and  older.  There  could  be  vory  little  doubt,  indeed,  which 
of  the  two  posted  bis  books  daily  with  the  greater  care  and 
accurEWsy. 

He  heard  the  case  out  patiently  and  temperately,  in  spite 
of  Delgado's  occasional  wild  outbursts  and  Tom  Dupuy's 
corntant  sneers,  and  at  the  end  he  proceeded  to  deliver  judg- 
ment as  calmly  as  he  was  able,  without  prejudice.  It  was 
a  pity  that  the  first  case  h*  heard  should  have  been  one 
which  common  justice  compelled  him  to  give  against  Tom 
Dupuy,  but  there  was  no  helping  it.  *  The  court  enters 
judgment  for  the  plaintiff,'  he  said  in  a  loud  clt  r  voice. 
'  Delgado's  books,  though  unfortunately  kept  only  in  Avuuiu 
for  his  own  reference,  have  been  very  carefully  and  neatly 
posted. — Yours,  Mr.  Dupuy,  I  regret  to  say,  are  extremely 
careless,  inadequate,  and  inaccurate ;  and  I  am  also  sorry 
to  see  that  the  case  was  heard  in  the  first  instance  by  one 
of  your  own  near  relations.  Under  such  circumstances,  it 
would  have  been  far  wiser,  as  well  as  far  more  seemly,  to 
avoid  all  appearance  of  evil.' 

Tom  Dupuy  grew  red  and  palo  by  turns  as  he  listened 
in  blank  surprise  and  dismay  to  this  amazing  and  unpre- 
cedented judgment.  A  black  man's  word  takon  in  evidence 
in  open  court  against  a  white  gentleman's  I  It  was  too 
appalUng  I  •  Well,  well,  Uncle  Theodore,'  he  said  bitterly, 
'ifiing  to  go, '  I  sxpected  as  much,  though  it's  hard  to  believe 


140 


m  ALL  SHADES 


it.  I  knew  we  should  never  get  any  decent  jnstice  ill  tbif 
court  any  longer  ! ' 

But  Delgado  stood  there,  dazed  and  motionless,  gazing 
with  mute  wonder  at  the  pale  face  of 'the  new  judge,  and 
debating  within  himself  whether  it  could  be  realty  true  or 
not  that  he  had  gained  his  case  against  the  powerful  Dupuy 
faction.  Not  that  he  understood  for  a  moment  the  exact 
meaning  of  the  legal  words,  •  judgment  for  the  plaintiff ;  * 
but  he  saw  at  once  on  Tom  Dupuy's  face  that  the  white 
man  was  positively  livid  with  anger,  and  had  been  severely 
reprimanded.  *  l3e  Lard  be  praise  I '  he  ejaculated  again, 
at  last.  *  De  judge  is  righteous  judge,  an'  lub  de  black 
man  ! '  Then  he  added  in  a  lower  and  more  solemn  tone 
to  Rosina  Fleming,  who  stood  once  more  now  beside  him  : 
*  In  de  great  an'  terrible  day  ob  de  Lard,  missy,  de  sword 
ob  de  Lard  an'  ob  his  people  will  pass  ober  all  de  house  ob 
de  Hawtom,  as  de  angel  pass  ober  de  children  ob  Israel  in 
de  day  when  him  slay  de  firstborn  ob  de  Egyptian,  from 
de  son  ob  Pharaoh  dat  sit  upon  de  trone  to  de  son  ob  de 
captive  dat  languish  in  de  dungeon  I ' 

Edward  would  have  given  a  great  deal  just  then  if 
Delgado  in  the  moment  of  his  triumph  had  not  used  those 
awkward  words, '  Him  lub  de  black  man  1 '  But  there  was 
no  use  brooding  over  it  now ;  so  he  merely  signed  with  his 
finger  to  Delgado,  and  whispered  hastily  in  his  ear  as  he 
dismissed  the  case  :  '  Come  to  me  this  evening  in  my  own 
room  as  soon  as  court  is  all  over ;  I  want  to  hear  from  yon 
how  and  where  you  learnt  Arabic.' 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

When  all  tha  other  cases  had  been  gradually  dismissed — 
the  petty  larceny  of  growing  yams  ;  the  charge  of  steahng 
a  pair  of  young  turkeys  ;  the  disputed  question  as  to  the 
three-halfpence  balance  on  the  aoconnt  for  sweet-potatoei, 
and  so  forth  ad  infinitum — Edward  made  his  way,  wearied 
and  anxious,  into  his  own  room  behind  the  court>honse. 
Delgado  was  waiting  for  him  there,  and  as  tht  judge 


nr  ALL  I^TTAT)Ea 


141 


entered,  lie  rose  quickly  and  uttered  a  few  words  of  custo- 
mary  salutation  in  excellent  Arabic.  Edward  Hawthorn 
observed  at  once  that  a  strange  change  seemed  to  have 
come  over  the  ragged  old  negro  in  the  course  of  those  few 
hours.  He  had  lost  his  slouching,  half- savage  manner, 
and  stood  more  erect,  or  bowed  in  self-respecting  obeisance, 
with  a  certain  obvious  consciousness  of  personal  dignity 
which  at  once  reminded  h'  l  of  Sheikh  Abdullah.  He 
noticed,  too,  that  while  the  man's  English  was  the  mere 
broken  Creole  language  he  had  learned  from  the  other 
negroes  around  him,  Ms  Arabic  was  the  pure  colloquial 
classical  Arabic  of  the  Cairo  ulemas.  It  was  astonishing 
what  a  di£ference  this  change  of  tongue  made  in  the 
tattered  old  black  field-labourer  :  when  he  spoke  English, 
he  was  the  mere  ordinary  plantation  negro ;  when  he  spoke 
Arabic,  he  was  the  decently  educated  and  perfectly  cour- 
teous African  Moslem. 

'  You  have  quite  surprised  me,  Delgado,'  Edward  said, 
still  in  colloquiid  Arabic.  '  I  had  no  idea  there  were  any 
Africans  in  Trinidad  who  understood  the  language  of  the 
Koran.    How  did  you  ever  come  to  learn  it  ?  ' 

The  old  African  bowed  graciously,  and  expanded  his 
hands  with  a  friendly  gesture.  *  Eiicndi,'  he  answered, 
•Allah  is  not  wholly  without  his  true  followers  in  any 
country.  Is  it  not  written  in  your  own  book  that  when 
Elijah,  the  forerunner  of  the  Prophet,  cried  in  the  cave, 
saying :  ••  I  alone  am  left  of  the  worshippers  of  Allah," 
the  Lord  answered  and  said  unto  him  in  his  mercy: 
•*  I  have  left  me  seven  thousand  souls  in  Israel  which 
have  not  bowed  the  knee  to  Baal"?  Even  so,  Allah 
has  his  followers  left  even  here  among  the  infidels  in 
Trinidad.' 

'  Then  you  are  still  a  Mussulman  ?  *  Edward  cried  in 
surprise. 

The  old  African  rose  again  from  the  seat  into  which 
Edward  had  poHtely  motioned  him,  and  folding  both  his 
hands  reverently  in  front  of  him,  answered  in  a  profoundly 
solemn  voice :  '  There  is  no  God  but  Allah,  and  Mohammed 
is  his  prophet.* 

*Bat  I  thought — I  understood — I  was  told  that  yon 

10 


14t 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


were  a  teacher  and  preaclier  np  yonder  in  t!io  MethodiH* 
chapel.' 

Delgado  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  African  exprea- 
siveness.  '  What  can  I  do  ? '  he  said,  throwing  open  his 
hands  sideways.  *  They  have  brought  me  here  all  the  way 
from  the  Gold  Coast.  There  is  no  mosque  here,  no  ulema, 
no  other  Moslems.  What  can  I  do  ?  I  have  to  do  as  the 
other  negroes  do. — But  see ! '  and  he  drew  something  care- 
fully from  the  folds  of  his  dirty  cotton  shirt :  '  I  have 
brought  a  Book  with  me.  I  ho.ve  kept  it  sacredly  all  these 
years.    Have  you  seen  it  ?    Do  you  know  it  ? ' 

Edward  opened  the  soiled  and  dog's-eared  but  carefully 
treasured  volume  that  the  negro  handed  him.  He  Imew 
it  at  once.  It  was  a  hand-copied  Koran.  He  turned  the 
pages  over  lightly  till  he  came  to  the  famous  cliapter  of 
the  Seven  Treasures ;  then  he  began  to  read  aloud  a  few 
verses  in  a  clear,  easy,  Arabic  intonation. 

Delgado  started  when  he  heard  the  young  judge  actu- 
ally reading  the  sacred  volume.  '  So  you,  too,  are  a 
Moslem  1 '  he  cried  excitedly. 

Edward  puiled.  •  No,'  he  answered ; 
man.  Bnf  I  have  learnt  Arabic,  and 
Koran.' 

*  Mussulman  or  Christian,'  Delgado  answer ca  lervently, 
throwing  up  his  head,  *  you  are  a  servant  of  Allah.  You 
have  given  judgment  to-day  like  Daniel  the  Hebrew,  or 
like  Othman  Calif,  the  successor  of  the  Prophet.  When 
the  great  and  terrible  day  of  the  Lord  arrives,  Allah  will 
surely  not  forget  the  least  among  his  servants.' 

Edward  did  not  understand  the  hidden  meaning  of  that 
seemingly  conventional  pious  tag,  so  he  merely  answered : 
'But  you  haven't  yet  told  me,  remnant  of  the  faithful, 
how  you  ever  came  to  learn  Arabic* 

Thus  encouraged,  Delgado  loosed  the  strings  of  his 
tongue,  and  poured  forth  rapidly  with  African  volubility 
the  whole  marvellous  story  of  his  life.  The  son  of  a  petty 
chieftain  on  the  Guinea  coast,  he  had  been  sent  in  his 
boyhood  by  his  father,  a  Mohammedan  convert,  to  the 
native  schools  for  the  negroes  at  Cairo,  where  he  had  re- 
mained till  he  was  over  seventeen  years  old,  and  had  then 


'  I  am  no  Mussul- 
I  hp      read  the 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


14» 


returned  to  his  father's  principality.  There,  he  had  gone 
out  to  fight  in  some  small  war  between  two  neighbouring 
negro  chieftains,  \Yhose  events  he  insisted  on  detailing  to 
Edward  at  great  length ;  and  having  been  taken  prisoner 
by  the  hostile  party,  he  had  at  last  been  sold  in  the  bad 
old  days,  when  a  contraband  '  ebony  trade '  still  existed,  to 
a  Cuban  slaver.  The  slaver  had  been  captured  off  Sombrero 
Rock  by  an  Enghsh  cruiser,  and  all  the  negroes  landed  at 
Trinidad.  That  was  the  sum  and  substimce  of  the  strangely 
romantic  story  told  by  the  old  African  to  the  young  English 
barrister  in  the  Westmoreland  court-house.  Couched  in 
his  childish  and  ignorant  negro  English,  it  would  no  doubt 
have  sounded  ludicrous  and  puerile ;  but  poured  forth  in 
classical  Arabic  almost  as  pure  and  fluent  as  Sheikh 
Abdullah's  own,  it  was  brimful  of  pathos,  eloquence,  inte- 
rest, and  weirdncss.  Yet  strange  and  almost  incredible  as 
it  seemed  to  Edward's  mind,  the  old  African  himself  ap- 
parently regarded  it  as  the  most  natural  and  simple  con- 
catenation of  events  that  could  easily  happen  to  anybody 
anywhere. 

'  And  how  is  it,'  Edward  asked  at  last,  in  profound 
astonishment,  lapsing  ont  o  more  into  English,  '  that  you 
have  never  tried  to  get  Lack  to  Africa '? ' 

Dclgado  smiled  an  ugly  smile,  that  showed  all  his 
teeth,  not  pleasantly,  but  like  the  teeth  of  a  bull-dog 
snarling.  '  Do  you  tink,  sah,'  he  said  sarcastically,  •  dat 
dem  fightin'  Dupuy  is  gwine  to  help  a  poor  black  naygur 
to  go  back  to  him  own  country  ?  Ole-time  folk  has  pro- 
verb :  "  Mongoose  no  help  cane-rat  find  de  way  back  to 
him  burrow." ' 

Edward  could  hardly  believe  the  sudden  transforma- 
tion. In  a  smjile  moment,  with  the  change  of  language, 
the  educated  African  had  vanished  utterly,  and  the  planta- 
tion negro  &tood  once  more  undisguised  before  him.  And 
yet,  Edward  thought  curiously  to  himself,  which,  after  all, 
was  the  truest  and  most  genuine  of  those  two  contrasted 
but  united  personalities — the  free  IMussulman,  or  the  cowed 
and  hopeless  Trinidad  field-labourer  ?  Strange,  too,  that 
while  this  bom  African  could  play  as  he  liked  at  fetichism 
or  Christianity,  could  do  oltah  or  sing  psalxuB  from  his 


144 


IN  ALL  8BADE8 


English  hyinn-book,  the  profoundly  penetrating  and  ab- 
sorbing creed  of  Islam  was  the  onij  one  that  had  Bnnk 
deep  into  the  ve^'y  inmost  marrow  of  his  negro  nature. 
About  that  fact,  Edward  could  not  for  a  moment  have  the 
faintest  hesitation.  Delgado — Coromantyn  or  West  Indian 
— was  an  undoubting  Mussulman.  Christianity  was  but 
a  cloak  with  which  he  covered  himself  outwardly,  to  him- 
self and  others ;  obeah  was  but  an  art  that  he  practised  in 
secret  for  unlawful  profit ;  Islam,  the  faith  most  profoundly 
and  iiitiniately  adapted  to  the  negro  idiosyncrasy,  was  the 
creed  that  had  burnt  itself  into  his  very  being,  in  spite 
of  all  slianges  of  outer  circumstance.  Not  that  Delgado 
believed  his  Bible  the  less ;  with  the  frank  inconsistericy 
of  early  minds,  he  held  the  two  incompatible  beliefs  vrithout 
the  faintest  tinge  of  conscious  hypocrisy ;  just  as  many  oi 
ourselves,  though  Christian  enough  in  all  externals,  hold 
lingering  relics  of  pagan  superstitions  about  horseshoes, 
and  crooked  sixpences,  and  unlucky  days,  and  the  mystic 
virtues  of  a  carnelian  amulet.  Every  morning  he  spelt 
over  religiously  a  chapter  in  the  New  Testament;  and 
overy  night,  in  the  gloom  of  his  hut,  he  read  to  himself 
in  hushed  awe  a  few  versicles  of  the  holy  Koran. 

"When  story  and  comment  were  fully  finished,  the  old 
African  rose  to  go.  As  he  opened  the  door,  Edward  held 
out  his  hand  for  the  negro  to  shake.  Delgado,  now  once 
more  the  plantation  labourer,  hesitated  for  a  second,  fearing 
to  take  it ;  then  ai  last,  drawing  himself  up  to  his  full  height, 
and  instinctively  clutching  at  his  loose  cotton  trousers, 
as  though  they  had  been  the  flowing  white  robes  of  his  old 
half-forgotten  Egyptian  school  days,  he  compromised  the 
matter  by  making  a  profound  salaam,  and  crying  in  bis  clear 
Arabic  gdttm*als  :  '  May  the  blessing  of  Allah,  the  all- wise, 
the  m&rciful,  rest  for  ever  on  the  effendi,  his  servant,  who 
has  dehvered  a  just  judgment !  * 

In  another  moment  he  had  ghded  through  the  door; 
and  Edwarr),  hardly  yet  able  to  reaUse  the  strangeness  of 
the  situation,  was  left  alone  with  his  own  astoniBbment. 


nr  ALL  SHADSS 


U6 


CHAPTER  XX. 

TmtBB  or  four  months  rolled  rapidly  away,  and  the 
Hawthorns  began  to  feel  themselves  settling  down  quietly 
to  their  new,  strange,  and  anomalous  position  in  the  island 
of  Trinidad.  In  spite  of  her  father's  prohibition,  Nora 
often  came  around  to  visit  them  ;  and  though  Mr.  Dupuy 
fought  hard  against  her  continuing  *  that  undesirable 
acquaintance '  he  soon  found  that  Nora,  too,  had  a  will  of 
her  own,  and  that  she  was  not  to  be  restrained  from  any- 
thing on  which  she  had  once  set  her  mind,  by  such  very 
simple  and  easy  means  as  mere  prohibition.  *  The  girl's  a 
Dupuy  to  the  backbone,'  her  cousin  Tom  said  to  her  father 
more  than  once,  in  evident  admiration.  '  Though  she  does 
take  up  with  a  lot  of  coloured  trash — which,  of  course,  is 
very  unladylike — by  George,  sir,  when  once  she  sets  her 
hesurt  upon  a  thing,  she  does  it  too,  and  no  mistake  about 
it  either.' 

Dr.  Whitaker  was  another  not  infrequent  visitor  at 
the  Hawthorns'  bungalow.  He  had  picked  up,  as  he 
desired,  a  gratuitous  practice  among  the  poorer  negroes ; 
and  though  it  often  sorely  tried  his  patience  and  enthusiasm, 
he  found  in  it  at  least  some  relief  and  respite  from  the  per- 
petual annoyance  and  degradation  of  his  uncongenial  home 
life  with  his  father  'md  Miss  Euphemia.  His  botany,  too, 
gave  him  another  anodyne — something  to  do  to  take  his 
mind  off  the  endless  incongiinty  of  his  settled  position. 
He  had  decided  in  his  own  mind,  almost  from  the  very  first 
dai'  of  landing,  to  undertake  a  Flora  of  Trinidad— a  new 
work  on  all  the  llowerhig  plants  in  the  rich  vegetation  of 
that  most  luxuriant  among  tropical  islands  ;  and  in  every 
minute  of  leisure  time  that  he  could  spare  from  the  thank- 
less care  of  his  poor  negro  patients,  he  was  hard  at  work 
among  the  tangled  woods  and  jungle  undergrowth,  or  else 
in  his  own  little  study  at  home,  m  his  father's  house,  collect- 
ing, arranging,  and  comparing  the  materials  for  this  his  great 
work  on  the  exquisite  flowers  of  his  native  country.  The 
faithful  violin  aiibrde   him  his  third  great  resource  and  allu- 


146 


IN  ALL   8TTADES 


viation.  Tboagh  Miss  Euphcmia  and  her  lively  friends  were 
scarcely  of  a  sort  to  appreciate  the  yoiinc^  doctor's  touching 
and  delicate  execution,  he  practised  by  himself  for  an  hour 
or  tw  in  his  o^vn  rooms  every  evening ;  and  as  he  did  so,  he 
felt  that  the  strings  seemed  ever  to  re-echo  v/ith  one  sweet 
and  oft-recurring  name — the  name  of  Noia.  To  be  sure, 
lie  was  a  brown  man,  but  even  brown  men  are  more  or  less 
human.  How  could  he  ever  dream  of  falling  in  love  with 
one  of  Miss  Euphemia's  like-minded  companions  ? 

He  met  Nora  from  time  to  time  in  the  Hawthorns' 
drawing-room  ;  there  was  no  other  place  under  the  circnra- 
Btances  of  Trinidad  where  he  was  at  all  likely  ever  to  meet 
her.  Nora  was  more  frankly  kind  to  him  now  than 
formerly ;  she  folt  that  to  be  cool  or  indilferent  towards 
him  before  Edward  and  Marian  might  scorn  remotely  like 
an  indirect  slight  upon  their  own  position.  One  afternoon 
he  met  her  there  accidentally,  and  she  asked  him,  with 
polite  interest,  how  his  work  on  the  flowers  of  Trinidad 
was  getting  on. 

The  young  doctor  cast  down  his  eyes  and  answered 
timidly  that  he  had  collected  an  immense  number  of  speci- 
mens, and  was  arranging  them  slowly  in  systematic  order. 

*  And  your  music.  Dr.  Whitaker  ? ' 

The  mulatto  stammered  for  a  moment.  *  Miss  Dupuy,' 
he  said  with  a  slight  hesitation,  *  I  have — I  have  published 
the  little  piece — the  Hurricane  Symphony,  you  Imow— that 
I  showed  you  once  on  board  the  Severn.  I  have  published 
it  in  London.  If  you  will  allow  me — I — I — I  will  present 
you,  as  I  promised,  with  a  copy  of  the  music' 

*  Thank  you,'  Nora  said.  '  How  very  good  of  you  I 
Will  ^ou  send  it  to  me  to  Orange  Grove,  or — will  you 
leave  it  here  some  day  with  Mrs.  Hawthorn  ?  * 

The  mulatto  felt  his  face  grow  hot  and  burning  as  he 
answered  with  as  much  carelessness  as  he  could  readily 
command  :  •  I  have  a  copy  here  with  me — it's  with  mv  hat 
in  the  piazza.  If  you  will  permit  me,  Mrs.  Hawthorn, 
I'll  just  step  out  and  fetch  it.  I — I  brought  it  with  me. 
Miss  Dupuy,  thinking  it  just  possible  I  might  happen  to 
meet  you  here  this  morning.'  He  didn't  add  that  he  had 
brought  it  out  with  him  day  after  day  for  the  last  fortnight, 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


14T 


in  the  vain  hope  of  chancing  to  meet  her ;  and  had  carried 

it  back  again  with  a  heavy  heart  night  after  night,  when 
he  had  failed  to  see  her  in  that  one  solitary  possible  meet- 
ing-place. 

Nora  took  the  piece  that  he  handed  her,  fresh  and  white 
from  the  press  of  a  famous  London  firm  of  music-sellers, 
and  glanced  hastily  at  the  top  of  the  title-page  for  the  pro- 
mised dedication.  There  was  none  visible  anywhere.  The 
title-page  ran  simply :  '  Op.  14.  Hurricane  Symphony. 
Souvenir  des  Indes.     By  W.  Clarkson  Whitaker.* 

*  But,  Dr.  Whitaker,'  Nora  said,  pouting  a  little  in  her 
pretty  fashion,  •  this  isn't  fair,  you  know.  You  promised 
to  dedicate  tlie  piece  to  me.  I  was  quite  looking  forward 
to  seeing  my  name  in  big  letters,  printed  in  real  type,  on 
the  top  of  the  title-page  I ' 

The  mulatto  doctor's  heart  beat  fast  that  moment  with 
a  very  unwonted  and  irregular  pulsation.  Then  she  really 
wished  him  to  dedicate  it  to  her  I  Why  on  earth  had  he 
been  so  timorous  as  to  strike  out  her  name  at  the  last 
moment  on  the  fair  copy  he  had  sent  to  London  for  publi- 
cation ?  *  I  thought.  Miss  Dupuy,'  he  answered  slowly, 
'  our  positions  were  so  very  different  in  Trinidad,  that  when 
I  came  here  and  felt  how  things  actually  stood,  I — I  judged 
it  better  not  to  put  your  name  in  conjunction  with  mine  on 
the  same  title-page.* 

*  Then  you  did  quite  wrong  I '  Nora  retorted  warmly ; 
•  and  I'm  very  angry  with  you — I  am  really,  I  assure  you. 
You  ought  to  have  kept  your  promise  when  you  gave  it  me. 
I  wanted  to  see  my  own  name  in  print,  and  on  a  piece  of 
music  too.  I  expect,  now,  I've  lost  tlie  chance  o!  seeing 
myself  in  black  and  white  for  ever  and  ever.' 

The  mulatto  smiled  a  smile  of  genuine  pleasure.  *  It's 
easily  remedied,  Miss  Dupuy,'  he  answered  quickly.  *  If 
you  really  mean  it,  I  shall  dedicate  my  very  next  compo- 
sition to  you.  You're  extremely  kind  to  take  such  a  Mendly 
interest  in  my  poor  music* 

'  I  hope  I'm  not  overdoing  it,'  Nora  thought  to  henelf. 
'  But  the  poor  fellow  really  has  so  much  to  put  up  with, 
that  one  can't  help  boliaving  a  little  kindly  to  him  when 
0Q«  happens  to  get  the  opjjortunity.' 


148 


IN  ALL  8HADB8 


When  Dr.  Whitaker  rose  to  leave,  he  shook  hands  with 
Nora  very  warmly,  and  said  as  he  did  so :  *  Good-bpre,  Miss 
Dupuy.  I  shan't  forget  next  time  that  the  dedication  is  to 
be  fairly  printed  in  good  earnest.' 

•  Mind  you  don't,  Dr.  Whitaker,*  Nora  responded  gaily. 
'  Good-bye.  I  suppose  I  shan't  see  you  again,  as  usual,  for 
another  week  of  Sundays  I ' 

The  mulatto  smiled  once  more,  a  satisfied  smile,  as  he 
answered  quickly :  *  Oh  yes,  Miss  Dupuy.  We  shall  meet 
on  Monday  next.  Of  course,  you're  going  to  the  Governor's 
ball  at  Banana  Garden  ? ' 

Nora  started.  '  The  Governor's  ball  I  *  she  repeated— 
•  the  Governor's  ball !  Oh  yes,  of  course  I'm  going  there, 
Dr.  Whitaker. — But  are  you  invited  ?  ' 

She  said  it  thoughtlessly,  on  the  spur  of  the  moment, 
for  it  had  never  occurred  to  her  that  the  brown  doctor 
would  have  an  invitation  also ;  but  the  tone  of  surprise  in 
which  she  spoke  cut  the  poor  young  mulatto  to  the  very 
quick  in  that  moment  of  triumph.  He  drew  himself  up 
proudly  as  he  answered  in  a  hasty  tone :  '  Oh  yes ;  even  I 
am  invited  to  Banana  Garden,  you  know.  Miss  Dupuy. 
The  Governor  of  the  colony  at  least  can  recognise  no  dis- 
tinction of  class  or  colour  in  his  official  capacity.' 

Nora's  face  flushed  crimson.  '  I  shall  nope  to  see  you 
there,'  she  answered  quickly.  *  I'm  glad  you're  going. — 
Marian  dear,  we  shall  he  quite  a  party.  I  only  wish  I  was 
going  with  yon,  instead  of  being  trotted  off  in  proper  style 
by  that  horrid  old  Mrs.  Pereira.' 

Dr.  Whitaker  said  no  more,  but  raised  his  hat  upon  the 
piazza  steps,  jumped  upon  his  horse,  and  took  his  way 
along  the  dusty  road  that  led  from  the  Hawthorns'  cottage 
to  the  residence  of  the  Honourable  Robert  Whitaker.  As 
he  reached  the  house,  Miss  Euphemia  was  laughing  loudly 
in  the  drawing-room  with  her  bosom  friend,  Miss  Seraphina 
M'CuUoch.  •  Wilberforce  1  *  Miss  Euphemia  cried,  the 
moment  her  brother  made  his  appearance  on  the  outer 
piazza,  'jest  you  come  straight  in  here,  I  tellin'  you. 
Here's  Pheenie  come  around  to  hab  a  talk  wit  you.  You 
is  too  unsocial  altogcdder.  You  always  want  to  go  an' 
bury  yourself  in  your  own  study.    Oh  my,  oh  my  1    Young 


IN  ALL    SHADES 


U9 


dat  come  from  England,  dey  hasn't  got  no  eonversa- 
tlon  at  all  for  to  talk  wit  de  ladies.' 

Dr.  Whitaker  was  not  in  the  humour  just  that  moment 
to  indulge  in  pleasantries  with  Miss  Seraphina  M'CuUoch, 
a  brown  young  lady  of  buxom  figure  and  remarkably  free- 
and-easy  conversation;  so  he  sighed  impatiently  as  he 
answered  with  a  hasty  wave  of  his  hand :  '  No,  Euphemia ; 
I  can't  come  in  and  see  your  friend  just  this  minute.  I 
must  go  into  my  own  room  to  make  up  some  medicines — 
some  very  urgent  medicines — wanted  immediately — for 
some  of  my  poor  sick  patients.' — Heaven  help  his  soul  for 
that  transparent  little  prevarication,  for  all  the  medicine 
had  been  sent  out  in  charge  of  a  ragged  negro  boy  more 
than  two  hours  ago  ;  and  it  was  Dr.  Whitaker's  own  heart 
that  was  sick  and  ill  at  ease,  beyond  the  power  of  any 
medicine  ever  to  remedy. 

Miss  Euphemia  pouted  her  already  sufficiently  protrud- 
ing lips.  '  Always  dem  stoopid  niggers,'  she  answered 
contemptuously.  '  How  on  eart  a  man  like  you,  Wilber- 
force,  dat  has  always  been  brought  up  respectable  an' 
proper,  in  a  decent  fam'ly,  can  bear  to  go  an'  trow  away 
his  time  in  attendin'  to  a  parcel  of  low  nigger  people,  is 
more  dan  I  can  ever  understan'. — Can  you,  beraphina  ?  ' 

Miss  Beraphina  responded  immediately,  that,  in  her 
opinion,  niggers  was  a  disgraceful  set  of  dat  low,  disrepu- 
table people,  dat  how  a  man  like  Dr.  Wilberforce  Whitaker 
could  BO  much  demean  hisself  as  ever  to  touch  dem,  really 
surpassed  her  limited  comprehension. 

Dr.  Whitaker  strode  angrily  away  into  his  own  room, 
muttering  to  himself  as  he  went,  that  one  couldn't  blame  the 
white  people  for  looking  down  upon  the  browns,  when  the 
browns  themselves,  in  their  foolish  travesty  of  white  pre- 
judice, looked  down  so  much  upon  their  brother  blacks 
beneath  them.  In  a  minute  more,  he  reappeared  with  a 
face  of  puzzled  bov.ilvlerniont  at  the  drawing-room  door, 
and  cried  to  his  sister  angrily:  'Euphemia,  Euphemia  I 
what  have  yon  done,  I'd  liku  to  know,  with  all  those  speci- 
mens I  brought  in  tliis  morning,  and  left,  when  I  went  out, 
upon  my  study  table  ?  ' 

'  Wilberforce, '  Miss  Euphemia  answered  with  stately 


ISO 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


I      I 
ni      i 


dignity,  rising  to  confruiit  him,  '  I  tink  I  can't  stand  dis 
mess  an'  rubbish  dat  you  make  about  de  house  a  minute 
longer. — Phceiiie  1  I  tell  you  how  dat  man  treat  de  fam'ly. 
Every  day,  he  goes  out  into  de  woods  an'  he  cuts  bush — 
common  bush,  all  sort  of  wo.ed  an'  trash  an'  rubbish  ;  an' 
he  brings  dem  home,  an'  juits  dem  in  de  study,  so  dat  de 
house  don't  never  tidy,  howevtir  much  you  try  for  to  tidy 
him.  Well,  dis  mornin'  I  say  to  myself:  "I  don't  goin' 
to  stand  dis  lumber-room  in  a  respectuble  liiniiy  any 
longer."  So  I  take  de  bush  dat  Wilberforce  bring  in  ;  I 
carry  him  out  to  do  kitchen  altogedder;  I  open  do  stove, 
an'  I  trow  him  in  all  in  a  lump  into  de  very  middle  of  de 
kitchen  fire.  Ila,  ha,  ha !  liim  bum  an'  ciackle  all  do 
eamj  as  if  he  was  choek-rull  of  blazin'  gunpow  der  I ' 

Dr.  Whitaker's  cyos  Hashed  angrily  as  he  cried  in 
surprise:  'What!  all  my  specimens,  Euphemial  all  my 
spociraens !  all  the  ferns  and  orchids  and  curious  club- 
mosses  1  brought  in  from  Pimento  Valley  Scrubs  early 
this  morning  ? ' 

Miss  Eupheraia  tossed  her  head  contemptuously  in  the 
air.  *  Yes,  Wilberforce,'  she  answered  with  a  placid  smile  ; 
*  every  one  of  dem.  I  burn  de  whole  nasty  lot  of  bush  an' 
trash  togedder.  An'  den,  when  I  finished,  I  burn  de  dry 
ones — de  nasty  dry  tings  you  put  in  de  cupboards  aU 
around  de  study.' 

Dr.  Whitaker  started  in  horror.  *  My  herbarium  I  *  he 
cried — *my  whole  herbarium!  You  don't  mean  to  say, 
Euphemia,  you've  actually  gone  and  wantonly  destroyed 
my  entire  collection  ? ' 

'Yes,'  Miss  Euphemia  responded  cheerfully,  nodding 
acquiescence  several  times  over ;  '  I  bum  de  whole  lot  of 
dera — paper  an'  everyting.  De  nasty  tings,  dey  bring  in 
de  cockroiich  an'  de  red  ants  into  de  study  cupboards.' 

The  mulatto  rushed  back  eagerly  and  hastily  into  his 
own  study ;  he  fiung  open  the  cupboard  doors,  and  looked 
with  a  binking  heart  into  the  vacant  spaces.  It  was  too 
true,  all  too  true !  Miss  Euphemia  had  destroyed  in  a 
moment  of  annoyance  the  entire  result  of  his  years  of 
European  collection  and  his  five  months'  botnnical  work 
«iiioy  h%  had  arrived  m  Trinidad.    The  poor  young  man 


tN  ALL  SHADEft 


HI 


sat  down  distracted  m  his  easy  chair,  and  flinging  hunself 
back  on  the  padded  cushions,  ruefully  surveyed  the  bare 
and  empty  shelves  of  his  viiled  cupboards.  It  was  not  so 
much  the  mere  loss  of  the  pile  of  specimens — five  months' 
collection  only,  as  well  as  the  European  herbarium  he  had 
brought  with  him  for  purposes  of  comparison — the  one 
could  be  easily  replaced  in  a  second  year  ;  the  other  could 
be  bought  again  almost  as  good  as  ever  from  a  London 
dealer — it  was  the  utter  sense  of  loneliness  and  isolation, 
the  feeling  of  being  so  absolutely  misunderstood,  the  entire 
want  of  any  reasonable  and  mtelligent  sympathy.  He  sat 
there  idly  for  many  minutes,  staring  with  blank  resigna- 
tion at  the  em[  ty  cases,  and  whistling  to  himself  a  low 
plaintive  tune,  us  he  gazed  and  gazed  at  the  bare  walls  in 
helpless  despondency.  At  last,  his  eye  fell  casually  upon 
his  beloved  violin.  He  rose  up,  slowly  and  iiioumfully, 
and  took  the  precious  instrument  with  reverent  care  from 
its  silk-lined  case.  Drawing  his  bow  across  the  familiar 
strings,  he  let  the  music  come  forth  as  it  would ;  and  the 
particular  music  that  happened  to  frame  itseU"  upon  the 
trembling  catgut  on  the  humour  of  the  moment  was  his 
own  luckless  Hurricane  Symphony.  For  hislf  an  hour  he 
sat  there  still,  varying  that  well-kn^wn  theme  with  un- 
studied impromptus,  and  playing  more  for  the  sake  of  for- 
getting everything  earthly,  than  of  producing  any  very 
particular  musical  eli'ect.  By-and-by,  when  his  hand  had 
warmed  to  its  work,  and  he  was  beginning  really  to  feel 
what  it  was  he  was  playing,  the  door  opened  suddenly,  and 
a  bland  voice  interrupted  his  solitude  with  an  easy  How 
of  colloquial  English. 

*  Wilberforce,  my  dear  son,*  the  voice  said  in  its  most 
sonorous  accents,  *  dere  is  company  come ;  you  will  excuse 
my  interruptin*  you.  De  ladies  an*  gentlemen  dat  we 
expec'  to  dinner  has  begun  to  arrive.  Bey  is  waitin*  to 
be  introduced  to  de  inheritor  of  de  tree  names  most  inti- 
mately connect  3d  wit  de  great  revolution  which  I  have 
had  de  pleasuie  an'  honour  of  brmgin'  about  for  my  en- 
slaved bredderin.  De  ladies  especially  is  most  anxious  to 
make  your  acquaintance.  He,  he,  he  I  de  ladies  is  most 
Anxioag.    An',  my  dear  son,  whatever  youdo,  don't  go  on 


ISfl 


IN  ALL  STTADES 


playin*  any  longer  dat  loogoobrious  melancholy  fiddle- 
toon.  If  you  must  play  someting,  play  us  sometiiig  lively 
— Pretty  little  yaller  Gal,  or  someting  of  dat  sortl — 
Ladies  an'  gentlemen,  I  have  de  pleasure  of  introducin'  to 
you  my  dear  son,  Dr.  Wilberforce  Clarkson  Whitaker,  of 
de  Edinburgh  University.' 

Dr.  Whitaker  almost  flung  down  his  beloved  violin  in 
his  shame  and  disgrace  at  this  untimely  interruption. 
'  Father,'  he  said,  as  kindly  as  he  was  able,  *  I  am  not 
well  to-night — I  am  indisposed — I  am  suffering  somewhat 
— you  must  excuse  me,  please ;  I'm  afraid  I  shan't  be  able 
to  meet  your  friends  at  dinner  tliis  evenmg.'  And  taking 
down  his  soft  hat  from  the  peg  in  the  piazza,  he  crushed  it 
despairingly  upon  his  aching  head,  and  stalked  out,  alone 
and  sick  at  heart,  into  the  dusty,  dreary,  cactus-bordered 
lanes  of  that  transformed  and  desolate  Trinidad. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

Thb  Governor's  dance  was  the  great  event  of  the  Trinidad 
season — the  occasion  to  ^vllit'll  every  girl  in  the  whole 
island  looked  forward  for  months  with  the  intensest  inte- 
rest. And  it  was  also  a  great  event  to  Dr.  Whitaker ;  for 
it  was  the  one  time  and  place,  except  the  Hawthorns' 
drawing-room,  where  he  could  now  meet  Nora  Dupuy  on 
momentary  terms  of  seeming  equality.  In  the  eye  of  the 
law,  even  in  Trinidad,  white  men,  black  men,  and  brc  wn 
men  are  all  equal ;  and  undoi*  the  Governor's  roof,  as 
became  the  representative  of  law  and  order  in  the  little 
island,  there  were  no  invidious  distinctions  of  persons 
between  European  and  negro.  Every  well-to-do  inhabit- 
ant, irrespective  of  cuticular  peculiarities,  was  duly  bidden 
to  the  Governor's  table :  ebony  and  ivory  mingled  freely 
together  once  in  a  moon  at  the  Governor's  At  Homes  and 
dances.  And  Dr.  Whitaker  had  made  up  his  mind  that 
on  that  one  solitary  possible  occasion  he  would  venture  on 
his  sole  despairing  appeal  to  Nora  Dupuy,  and  stand  or 
&11  bj  her  final  answer. 


II    ■';i^ 


m  ALL  SHADES 


16S 


It  was  not  without  serious  misgivings  that  the  mulatto 
doctor  had  at  last  decided  upon  thus  tempting  Providence. 
He  was  weary  of  the  terrible  disillusion  that  had  come 
upon  him  on  his  return  to  the  home  of  his  fathers ;  weary 
of  the  painfully  vulgar  and  narrow  world  into  which  he 
had  heen  cast  hy  unrelenting  circumstances.  He  could 
not  live  any  longer  in  Trinidad.  Let  him  fight  it  out  as 
he  would  for  the  sake  of  his  youthful  ideals,  the  hattle  had 
clearly  gone  against  him,  and  there  was  nothing  left  for 
him  now  but  to  give  it  up  in  despair  and  fly  to  England. 
He  had  talked  the  matter  over  with  Edward  Hawthorn — 
not,  indeed,  the  question  of  proposing  to  Nora  Dupuy,  for 
that  he  held  too  sacred  for  any  other  ear,  but  the  question 
of  stopping  in  the  island  and  fighting  down  the  uncon- 
querable prejudice — and  even  Edward  had  counselled  him 
to  go;  for  he  felt  how  vastly  different  were  the  circum- 
stances of  the  struggle  in  his  own  case  and  in  those  of  6he 
poor  young  mulatto  doctor.  He  himself  had  only  to  fight 
against  the  social  prejudices  of  men  his  real  inferiors  in 
intellect  and  culture  and  moral  standing.  Dr.  Whitaker 
had  to  face  as  well  the  utterly  uncongenial  brown  society 
into  which  he  had  been  rudely  pitchforked  by  fate,  hke  a 
gentleman  into  the  midst  of  a  pothouse  company.  It  was 
best  for  them  all  that  Dr.  Whitaker  should  take  himself 
away  to  a  more  fitting  environment ;  and  Edward  had 
himself  warmly  advised  him  to  return  once  more  to  free 
England. 

The  Governor's  dance  was  given,  not  at  Government 
House  in  the  Plains,  but  at  Banana  Garden,  the  country 
bungalow,  perched  high  up  on  a  solitary  summit  of  the 
Westmoreland  mountains.  The  big  ball-room  was  very 
crowded ;  and  Nora  Dupuy,  in  a  pale  maize-coloured  even- 
ing dress,  was  universally  recognised  by  black,  brown,  and 
white  ahke  as  the  belle  of  the  e\  ening.  She  danced  almost 
every  round  with  one  partner  after  another  ;  and  it  was 
not  till  almost  half  the  evening  had  passed  away  that  Dr. 
Whitaker  got  the  desired  chance  of  even  addressing  her. 
The  chance  came  at  last  just  bofore  +he  fifth  waltz,  a  dance 
that  Nora  had  purposely  loft  vacant,  in  cuse  she  should 
happen  to  pick  up  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  evening  an 


184 


lit  ALL  SHADES 


exceptionally  agreen'jle  and  promising  partner.  She  was 
sitting  down  to  rost  beside  her  chaperon  of  the  night,  on  a 
bench  placed  just  outside  the  window  in  the  tropical  garden, 
when  the  young  mulatto,  looking  every  inch  a  gentleman 
in  his  evening  dress — the  first  time  Nora  had  ever  seen 
him  80  attired — strolled  anxiously  up  to  her,  with  ill- 
affected  carelessness,  and  bo^vcd  a  timid  bow  to  his  former 
travelling  companion.  Pure  opposition  to  Mr.  Dupuy,  and 
affection  for  the  two  Hawthorns,  had  made  Nora  excep- 
tionally gracious  just  that  moment  to  all  brown  people ; 
and,  on  purpose  to  scandalise  her  chaperon — an  amuse- 
ment always  dear  to  every  girl — she  returned  the  doctor's 
hesitating  salute  with  a  pleasant  smile  of  perfect  cordiality. 
•  Dr.  Whitaker  ! '  she  cried,  leamng  over  towards  him  in  a 
kindly  way,  which  made  the  poor  mulatto's  heart  flutter 
terribly ;  *  so  here  you  are,  as  you  promised  I  I'm  so  glad 
you've  come  this  evening.  And  have  you  brought  Miss 
Whitaker  with  you  ?  ' 

The  mulatto  hesitated  and  stammered.  If  he  had  been 
a  white  man,  he  would  have  blushed  as  well ;  indeed,  he 
did  blush  internally,  though,  of  course,  Nora  did  not  per- 
ceive it  through  his  dusky  skin.  She  could  not  possibly 
have  asked  him  a  more  mal  d  propos  question.  The  poor 
young  man  looked  about  him  feebly,  and  then  answered  in 
a  low  voice :  '  Yes ;  my  father  and  sister  are  here  some- 
where.' 

'  Nora,  my  dear,'  her  chaperon  said  in  a  tone  of  subdued 
feminine  thunder,  *  I  didn't  know  you  had  the  pleasure  of 
Miss  Whitaker's  acquaintance.' 

'  Neither  have  I,  Mrs.  Pereira ;  but  perhaps  Dr. 
Whitaker  will  be  good  enough  to  introduce  me. — Not  now, 
thank  you,  Dr  Whitaker ;  I  don't  want  you  to  run  away 
this  minute  and  fetch  your  sister.  Some  other  time  will 
do  as  well.  It's  so  seldom,  you  know,  we  have  the  chance 
of  a  good  talk  now  together.' 

Dr.  Whitaker  smiled  and  stammered.  It  was  possible, 
of  course,  to  accept  Nora's  reluctance  in  either  of  two 
senses :  she  might  be  anxious  that  he  should  siup  and  talk 
to  her  ;  or  she  miglit  merely  wish  indefinitely  to  postpone 
the  pleasure  of  making  Miss  Euphemia's  persouui  acquaint- 


IN  ALL   SHADES 


IM 


'6  some- 


anoe;  bnt  she  flooded  him  bo  with  the  light  of  her  eyes 
as  she  spoke,  that  he  chose  to  put  the  most  flattering  of 
the  two  alternative  interpretaiions  upon  her  ambiguous 
sentence. 

*  You  are  very  good  to  say  so,'  he  answered,  still 
timidly ;  and  Nora  noticed  how  very  different  was  his 
maimer  of  speaking  now  from  the  self-conliuent  Dr. 
Whitaker  of  the  old  Severn  days.  Trinidad  had  clearly 
crushed  all  the  confidence  as  well  as  all  the  entlmsiasiii 
clean  out  of  him.  '  You  are  very  good  indeed,  Miss  Dupuy ; 
I  wish  the  opportunities  for  our  meeting  occurred  oftener.' 

He  stood  talkiii ,  besido  her  for  a  minute  or  two  longer, 
uttering  the  mere  polite  coiiimonplaces  of  ball-room  con- 
versation— the  heat  of  the  eveniug,  the  shortcomings  of 
the  band,  the  beauty  of  the  llowers — when  suddenly  Nora 
gave  a  little  jump  and  seized  her  piogramme  with  singular 
discomposure.  Dr.  Whitalcer  looked  up  at  once,  and 
divined  by  instinct  the  cause  of  her  hasty  movement.  Tom 
Dupuy,  just  fresh  from  the  cane-cutting,  was  looking  about 
for  her  down  the  long  corridor  at  the  opposite  end  of  the 
inner  garden.  *  Where's  my  cousin  ?  Have  you  seen  my 
cousin ? '  he  was  asking  everybody  ;  for  the  seat  wheio 
Nora  was  sitting  with  ^Irs.  Peroira  stood  under  the  shade 
of  a  big  papaw  tree,  and  so  it  was  impossible  for  him  to 
discern  her  face,  though  she  could  see  his  features  quite 
distinctly. 

*  I  won't  dance  with  that  horrid  man,  my  coasin  Tom  I  * 
Nora  said  in  her  most  decided  voice.  '  I'm  quite  sure  he's 
coming  here  this  minute  on  purpose  to  ask  me.' 

*  Is  your  programme  full  ? '  Dr.  Whitaker  inquired  with 
a  palpitating  heart. 

'  No,  not  quite,'  she  answered,  and  handed  it  to  him 
encouragingly.  There  v.as  just  one  dance  still  left  vacant 
— the  next  waltz.  *  I'm  too  tired  to  ('ance  it  out,'  Nora 
cried  pettishly.    *  The  horrid  man  !  I  li  pe  he  won't  see  me.* 

*  He's  comin J  this  way,  reai,'  IJrs.  Pereira  put  in  with 
placid  composure.  '  You'll  iiave  to  sit  it  out  with  him 
now ;  there's  no  help  for  it.' 

'  Sit  it  out  with  him  I — sit  it  out  with  Tom  Dupuy  I  O 
uo,  Mr».  Pureira;  I  wouldn't  do  it  for  a  thousand  guineas.' 


<m 


1M 


m  ALL   SWATiES 


•  What  will  yon  do,  then?  *  Dr.  Whitaker  asked  tremu- 
lously, still  holding  the  programme  and  pencil  in  his  un- 
decided Imnd.  Dare  he — dare  he  ask  her  to  dance  just  onoe 
with  him? 

'  What  shall  I  do  ?  Why,  nothing  simpler.  Have  an 
engagement  already,  of  course,  Dr.  Whitaker.' 

She  looked  at  him  significantly.  Tom  Dupuy  was 
just  coming  up.  If  Dr.  Whitaker  meant  to  ask  her,  there 
was  no  time  to  be  lost.  His  knees  gave  way  beneath  him, 
but  he  faltered  out  at  last  in  some  feeble  fashion  :  '  Then, 
Miss  Dupuy,  may  I — may  I — may  I  have  the  pleasure  ? ' 

To  Mrs.  Pereira's  immense  dismay,  Nora  immediately 
smiled  and  nodded.  'I  can't  dance  it  with  you,'  she  said 
with  a  hasty  gesture — she  shrank,  naturally,  from  that  open 
confession  of  faith  before  the  whole  assembled  company — 
'  but  if  you'll  allow  me,  I'll  sit  it  out  with  you  here  in  the 
garden.  You  may  put  your  name  down  for  it  if  you  Uke. 
Quickly,  please — wnte  it  quickly ;  here's  Tom  Dupuy  just 
coming.* 

The  mulatto  had  hardly  scratched  his  own  name  with 
shaky  pencilled  letters  on  the  little  card,  when  Tom  Dupuy 
swaggered  up  in  his  awkward,  loutish,  confident  manner, 
and  with  a  contemptuous  nod  of  condescending  half-recog- 
nition to  the  overjoyed  mulatto,  asked,  in  his  insular  West 
Indian  drawl,  whether  Nora  could  spare  him  a  couple  of 
dances. 

'  Your  canes  seem  to  have  delayed  you  too  late,  Tom 
Dupuy,'  Nora  answered  coldly.  *  Dr.  Whitaker  has  just 
asked  me  for  my  1  l;  vacancy.  You  should  come  earlier  to 
a  dance,  you  know,  if  you  want  to  find  a  good  partner.' 

Tom  Dupuy  stared  hard  at  her  face  in  puzzled  astonish- 
ment. *  Your  last  vacancy  I '  he  cried  incredulously.  *Dr. 
Whitaker  I  No  more  dances  to  spare,  Nora  I  No,  no,  I 
say ;  this  won't  do,  you  know  I  You've  done  this  on  pur- 
pose.   Let  me  have  a  squint  at  your  programme,  will  you  ? ' 

•  If  you  don't  choose  to  take  my  word  for  the  facts,* 
Nora  answered  haughtily,  'you  can  see  the  names  and 
numbers  of  my  engagements  for  yourself  on  my  pro- 
gramme, Tom. — Dr.  Whitaker,  have  the  kindness  to  hand 
mj  cousin  my  programme,  if  you  please. — Thank  you.* 


m  ALL  8HADE8 


187 


Tom  Dnpuy  took  the  programme  ongracioiulj,  and 
glanced  down  it  with  an  angry  eye.  He  read  every  name 
out  aloud  till  he  came  to  number  eleven,  *  Dr.  Whitaker.* 
As  he  reached  that  name,  his  Up  curled  with  an  ugly 
suddenness,  and  he  handed  the  bit  of  cardboard  back  coldly 
to  his  defiant  cousm.  *  Very  well,  Miss  Nora,'  he  answered 
with  a  sneer.  '  You're  quite  at  Uberty,  of  course,  to  choose 
your  own  company  however  it  pleases  you.  I  see  your 
programme's  quite  full ;  but  your  list  of  names  is  rather 
comprehensive  than  select,  I  fancy.  The  last  name  was 
written  down  as  I  was  coming  towards  you.  This  is  a  plot 
to  insult  me.-^Dr.  Whitaker,  we  shall  settle  this  httle  dif- 
ference elsewhere,  probably- -with  the  proper  weapon — » 
horse-whip.  Though  your  ancestors,  to  be  sure,  were 
better  accustomed,  I  believe,  sir,  to  a  good  raw  cowhide.— 
Good  evening.  Miss  Nora. — Good  evening.  Dr.  Whitaker.* 

The  mulatto's  eyes  flashed  fire,  but  he  replied  with  % 
low  and  stately  bow,  in  suppressed  accents :  '  I  shall  be 
ready  to  answer  you  in  this  matter  whenever  you  wish, 
Mr.  Dupuy— and  with  your  own  weapon.  Good  evening.* 
And  he  held  out  his  arm  quietly  to  Nora. 

Nora  rose  and  took  the  mulatto's  proiTered  arm  at  once 
with  a  sweeping  air  of  ucter  indilTeronce.  '  Shall  we  take 
a  turn  around  the  gardens,  Dr.  Whitaker  ? '  she  asked 
calmly,  reassuring  herself  at  the  same  time  with  a  rapid 
glance  that  nobody  except  poor  frightened  Mrs.  Pereira 
had  overheard  this  short  altercation.  '  How  lovely  the 
moon  looks  to-night  t  What  an  exquisite  undertone  of 
green  in  the  long  shadows  of  those  columns  in  the  portico  1' 

*  Undertone  of  green ! '  Tom  Dupuy  exclaimed  aloud 
in  vulgar  derision  (he  was  too  much  of  a  clod  to  see  that 
his  cue  in  the  scene  was  fairly  past,  and  that  dignity 
demanded  of  him  now  to  keep  perfectly  silent).  '  Under- 
tone of  green,  indeed,  with  her  precious  nigger  I — Mrs. 
Pereira,  this  is  your  fault  I  A  pretty  sort  of  chaperon  you 
make,  upon  my  word,  to  let  her  go  and  engage  herself  to 
sit  out  a  dance  with  a  common  mulatto  I — Where's  Uncle 
Qlieodore  ?  Where  is  he,  I  tell  you  ?  I  shall  run  and  fetch 
him  this  very  minute.  I  always  said  that  in  the  end  that 
girl  Nora  would  go  and  marry  a  woolly-headed  brown  man.* 

n 


w 


150 


nr  ALL  8KADK8 


ii    !! 


J  Jul 


CHAPTER  XXn. 

Nora  and  the  mulatto  walked  across  the  garden  in  un- 
broken silence ;  past  the  i'ountain  in  the  centre  of  the 
courtyard ;  past  the  corridor  by  the  open  Bupper-room ; 
past  the  hai  ging  lanterns  or  the  cuter  shrubbery ;  and 
down  the  big  flight  of  stone  steps  to  the  gravelled  Itahan 
terrace  that  overlooked  the  deep  tropical  gully  When  they 
reached  the  foot  of  the  staircase,  Nora  said  in  as  uncon- 
cerned 8.  tone  as  she  could  muster  up :  '  Let  us  walk  down 
here,  away  from  the  house,  Di\  Whitaker.  Tom  may 
perhaps  send  papa  out  to  lock  for  me,  and  I'd  rather  not 
meet  him  till  the  next  dance  is  well  over.  Please  take  me 
along  the  terrace.' 

Dr.  Whitaker  turned  with  her  silently  along  the  path, 
and  uttered  not  a  word  tiU  they  reached  the  marble  scat  at 
the  end  of  the  creeper-covered  balustrade.  Then  he  sat 
down  moodily  beside  her,  and  said  in  what  seemed  a  per- 
fectly  unruffled  voice  :  '  Miss  Dupny,  I  am  not  altogether 
sorry  that  this  little  incident  has  turned  out  just  as  it  has 
happened.  It  enables  you  to  judge  for  yourself  the  sort  of 
insult  that  men  of  my  colour  are  hable  to  meet  with  here  in 
Trinidad.' 

Nora  fingered  her  fan  nervously.  *  Tom  Dupuy*8  always 
an  unendurablf  rude  fellow,'  she  said,  with  affected  care- 
lessness. '  lie's  rude  by  nature,  you  Imow,  that's  the  fact 
of  it.  He's  rude  to  me.  He's  rudo  to  everybody.  He's  a 
boor,  Dr.  Whitaker ;  a  boor  at  heart.  You  mustn't  take 
any  notice  of  what  he  says  to  you.' 

*  Yes,  he's  a  boor,  Miss  Dupuy — and  I  shall  venture  to 
say  so,  although  he*s  your  own  cousin — but  in  what  other 
country  in  the  world  would  such  a  boor  venture  to  beheve 
himself  able  to  look  down  upon  other  men,  his  equals  in 
everything  except  an  accident  of  colour  ? ' 

'  Oh,  Dr.  \ Whitaker,  you  make  ic^  much  altogether  of 
his  mdenesa.  It  isn't  personal  to  yon ;  it's  part  of  his 
nature.' 

'  Miss  Dupuy,'  tht  young  mulatto  bunt  out  suddenly. 


nr  ILL  BJIADES 


101 


after  a  moment's  pause  and  internal  struggle,  'I'm  not 
sorry  for  i.,  as  I  said  before;  for  it  gives  me  the  oppor- 
tonity  of  saying  something  to  you  that  I  have  long  beeu 
waiting  to  tell  you.' 
•Well? 'frigidly. 

*  Well,  it  is  this :  I  mean  at  once  to  leave  Trinidad.* 
Nora  started.    It  was  not  quite  what  she  was  expecting. 

'To  leave  Trinidad,  Dr.  Whitaker?    And  where  to  gof 
Back  to  England  ?  ' 

•  Yes,  back  to  England. — Miss  Dupuy,  for  Heaven's 
sake,  listen  to  me  for  a  moment.  This  dance  won't  be  ver 
long.  As  soon  as  it's  over,  I  must  take  you  back  to  »h  ' 
ball-room.  I  have  only  these  few  short  minutes  to  speivik 
to  you.  I  have  been  waiting  long  for  them — looking  for- 
ward to  them ;  hopmg  for  them ;  dreading  them ;  foreseeing 
them.  Don't  disappoint  me  of  my  one  chance  of  a  hear- 
ing. Sit  here  and  hear  me  out :  I  beg  of  you — I  implore 
you.' 

Nora's  fingers  trembled  terribly,  and  she  felt  half  in- 
clined tc  rise  at  once  and  go  back  to  Mrs.  Pereira  ;  but  she 
could  not  £nd  it  in  her  heart  utterly  to  refuse  that  pleading 
tone  of  profound  emotion,  even  though  it  came  from  only 
a  brown  man.  *  Well,  Dr.  Whitaker,'  she  answered  tre- 
mulously, •  say  on  whatever  you  have  to  say  to  me.' 

'I'm  going  to  England,  Miss  Dupuy,'  the  poor  young 
mulatto  went  on  in  broken  accents  ;  '  I  can  stand  no  lon^'er 
the  shame  nnd  misery  of  my  own  surroimdings  in  this 
island.  You  Know  what  they  are.  Picture  them  to  your- 
self for  a  moment.  Forget  you  are  a  white  woman,  a 
member  of  this  old  proud  unforgiving  aristocracv — "for 
they  ne'er  pardon  who  have  done  the  wrong : "  forget  it 
for  once,  and  try  to  think  how  it  would  feel  to  you,  after 
your  EngJiflh  up-bringing,  with  your  tpstes  and  ideas  and 
habits  and  M<>ntiments,  to  be  suddenly  set  down  in  the  midst 
of  a  society  like  that  <J  the  ignorant  coloured  class  here  in 
Trinidad.  On  th«  one  side,  contempt  and  contumoly  from 
the  most  boorigh  ar^  unlettered  whites ;  on  the  other  side, 
utter  uncongeiiiality  with  one's  own  poor  miserable  people. 
Picture  it  to  your  elf    how  absolutely  unendurable  I ' 

Nora  bothottgbl  h«r  fil^ntly  of  Tom  Dupuy  &om  both 


160 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


any 


Joints  of  Tiew,  and  answered  in  a  low  tone :  *  Dr.  Whitaker* 
recognise  the  truth  cf  what  you  say.    I — I  am  sorry  for 
you  ;  I  sympathise  with  you.' 

It  was  a  great  deal  for  a  daughter  of  the  old  slave- 
owning  oligarchy  to  say — hew  much,  people  in  England 
can  hardly  realise;  and  Dr.  Whitaker  accepted  it  grate- 
fully. •  It's  very  kind  of  you,  ]\Iis8  Dupuy,'  he  went  on 
again,  the  tears  rising  quickly  to  his  eyes,  •  very,  very  land 
of  you.  But  the  struggle  is  over ;  I  can't  stand  it 
longer  ;  I  mean  at  once  to  return  to  England.' 

*  You  will  do  wisely,  I  think,'  Nora  answered,  looking 
at  him  steadily. 

'I  will  do  wisely,'  he  repeated  in  a  wandering  tone. 
*  Yes,  I  will  do  wisely.  But,  Miss  Dupuy,  strange  to  say, 
there  is  one  thing  that  still  binds  me  down  to  Trinidad. — 
Oh,  for  Heaven's  sake,  hsten  to  me,  and  don't  condemn  me 
unheard. — No,  no,  I  beg  of  you,  don't  rise  yet  I  I  will  be 
brief.  Hear  me  out,  I  implore  of  you,  I  implore  of  yon  1 
I'm  only  a  mulatto,  I  know ;  but  mulattoes  have  a  heart 
as  well  as  white  men — better  than  some,  I  do  honestly 
believe.  Miss  Dupuy,  from  the  very  first  moment  I  saw 
you,  I — I  loved  you  I  yea,  I  will  say  it — I  loved  you  I — I 
loved  you ! ' 

Nora  rose,  and  stood  erect  before  him,  proud  but  tre- 
mulous, in  her  girlish  beauty.  *  Dr.  Whitaker,'  she 
saidt  in  a  verj  calm  tone,  *  I  knew  it ;  I  saw  it.  From 
the  first  moment  you  ever  spoke  to  me,  I  knew  it  per- 
fectly.' 

He  drew  a  long  breath  to  still  the  violent  throbbing  of 
his  heart.  *  You  knew  it,'  he  said,  almost  joyously — *  you 
knew  it  I  And  you  did  not  repel  me  1  Oh,  Miss  Dupuy, 
for  one  of  your  blood  and  birth,  that  was  indeed  a  great 
condescension  I ' 

Nora  hesitated.  •  I  liked  you,  Dr.  Whitaker,'  she  an- 
swered slowly — *  I  liked  you,  and  I  was  sorry  for  you.' 

'  Thank  you,  thank  you.  Whatever  else  you  say,  for 
that  one  word  I  tliank  you  earnestly.  But  oh,  what  more 
can  I  say  t,->  you  ?  I  love  you ;  I  have  always  loved  you. 
I  shall  always  love  you  in  future.  T:ii:n  mc  or  reject  me, 
I  ghall  alwayg  love  you.    And  yet,  how  oau  I  ask  you? 


TN  ALL  8ffADB8 


m 


Bat  in  England— in  England,  Miss  Dnpay,  the  barrioi- 
would  be  less  absolute. — Yes,  yes  ;  I  know  how  hopeless  it 
is :  bat  this  onoe — this  once  only  I  I  must  ask  yon  1  Oh, 
for  Heaven's  sake,  in  England — far  away  from  it  all — in 
London,  where  nobody  thinks  of  these  things  I    Why,  I 

know  a  Hindu  barrister But  there  I  it's  not  a  matter 

for  reasoning ;  it  lies  between  heart  and  heart  1  Oh, 
Mids  Dupuy,  tell  me — tell  me,  for  God's  sake,  tell  me,  is 
there — is  there  any  chance  for  me  ?  * 

Nora's  hoart  relented  within  her.  '  Dr.  Whitaker,'  she 
said  slowly  and  remorsefully,  *  you  can't  tell  how  much  I 
feel  for  you.  I  can  see  at  once  what  a  dreadful  position  yon 
are  placed  in.  I  can  see,  of  course,  how  impossible  it  is  for 
j"-  ever  to  think  of  marrying  any — any  lady  of  your  own 
coiuur — at  least  as  they  are  brought  up  here  in  Trinidad. 
I  can  see  that  you  could  only  fall  in  love  with — with  a 
white  lady — a  person  fitted  by  education  and  manners  to 
be  a  companion  to  yon.  I  know  how  clever  you  are,  and  I 
think  I  can  see  how  good  you  are  too.  I  know  how  far  all 
your  tastes  and  ideas  are  above  these  of  the  pe^le  you 
must  mix  with  here,  or,  for  that  matter,  above  Tom  Dupu^'s 
—or  my  own  either.  I  see  it  all ;  I  know  it  all.  And,  m- 
deed,  I  like  you.  I  admire  you  and  I  hke  you.  I  don't  want 
you  to  think  me  unkind  and  unappreciative — Dr.  Whitaker, 
I  feel  truly  flattered  that  you  should  Hi)eak  so  to  me  this  even- 
ing—but  '    And  she  heaitated.    The  young  mulatto  felt 

that  that '  but '  was  the  very  death-blow  to  his  last  faint  hope 

and  aspiration.   '  But Well,  you  know  those  things  are 

something  more  than  a  mere  matter  of  liking  and  admiring. 
liOt  ua  still  be  friends,  Dr.  Whitaker—  lot  us  still  be  friends. 
— And  the'  '>'8  the  band  strildng  up  the  next  waltz.  Will 
you  kindly  '  o  me  back  to  the  uoii-rooiu?  I — I  am  en- 
gaged to  dance  it  with  Captain  Castello.' 

'  One  second.  Miss  Dupuy — for  God's  sake,  one  second  I 
Is  that  final  ?     la  that  irrevocable  ?  ' 

•  Final,  Dr.  Whiiaker — <|uite  final.  I  like  you ;  I  ad- 
mire vou ;  but  I  can  never,  never,  never — never  accept  you  I ' 

Tne  mulatto  clapped  his  hanu  wildly  for  one  moment 
to  his  forehead,  and  utiorri  a  httle  low  sharp  piercing  cry. 
'  Ify  Ood,  my  Qod,'  he  excUumed  in  an  accent  of  t«rribls 


IM 


m  ALL  SBADBS 


1 

",     i! 

•      1! 


despair,  'tlien  it  is  all  ovor— all,  all  overt  *  Next  instant 
be  had  drawn  himself  together  with  an  effort  again,  and 
offering  Nora  his  arm  with  constrained  calmness,  he  began 
to  lead  her  back  towards  the  crowded  ball-room.  As  he 
neared  the  steps,  he  paused  once  more  for  a  second,  and 
almost  whispered  in  her  ear  in  a  hollow  voice :  *  Thank 
yoa,  thank  you  for  ever  for  at  least  your  sympathy.' 


CHAPTER  XXra. 

Tbbt  had  reached  the  top  of  the  stone  steps,  when  two 
voices  were  borne  npon  them  from  the  two  ends  of  tLi 
corridor  opposite.  The  first  was  Mr.  Dupuy's.  *  Where  is 
she  ? '  it  said. — '  Mrs.  Pereira,  where's  Nora  ?  You  don't 
mean  to  say  this  is  true  that  Tom  tells  me — that  you've 
actually  gone  and  let  her  sit  out  a  dance  with  that  conceited 
nigger  fellow.  Dr.  Whitaker?  Upon  my  word,  my  dear 
madam,  what  this  island  is  coming  to  nowadays  is  really 
more  tlian  I  can  imagine.* 

The  second  voice  was  a  louder  and  blander  one.  *  My 
■on,  my  son/  it  said,  in  somewhat  thick  accents,  *  my  dear 
sou,  Wilberforce  Clarkson  Whitaker  1  Where  is  he  ?  Is 
he  in  de  garden  ?  I  want  to  introduce  him  to  de  Governor's 
lady.  De  Governor's  lady  has  been  graciously  pleased  to 
express  an  mteres in  de  inlieritorotde  tree namesmost  closely 
bound  up  wit  de  groat  social  revolution,  in  which  I  have 
had  de  honour  to  be  de  chief  actor,  for  de  benefit  of  millions 
of  my  fellow-subjecks. — Wulkin'  in  de  garden,  is  he,  wit  de 
daughter  of  my  respected  friend,  de  Honourable  Teodore 
Dupuy  of  Orange  Grove  ?  Ha,  ha  I  Dat's  de  way  wit  de 
young  dogs — dat's  de  way  wit  dum.  Always  off  walkin'  in 
de  garden  wit  de  pretty  ladies.  Ha,  ha,  ha  1  I  don't  blame 
dem  I ' 

Dr.  Whitaker,  his  face  on  fire  and  his  ears  tingling, 
pushed  on  rapidly  lown  the  very  centre  of  the  guden, 
taking  no  heed  of  either  voice  in  outward  seeming,  but 
gmr\p  Htiaight  on,  with  Nora  on  his  arm,  till  he  reached 
Ibe  oyvok  wuMiow-doi^^  that  led  directly  into  the  big  ball* 


IN  ILL  SHADES 


161 


room.  There,  seething  in  sooJ,  but  ontwardly  calm  and 
polite,  he  handed  over  his  partner  with  a  conventional 
smile  to  Captain  Castello,  and  turning  on  his  heel,  strode 
away  bitterly  across  the  ball-room  to  the  outer  doorway. 
Not  a  few  people  noticed  him  as  he  strode  off  in  his  angrr 
dignity,  for  Tom  Dupuy  had  already  been  blustering — with 
his  usual  taste — in  the  corridors  and  refreshment-room 
about  his  valiant  threat  of  soundly  horsewhipping  the 
woolly-headed  mulatto.  In  the  vestibule,  the  doctor  paused 
and  asked  for  his  dust-coat.  A  negro  servant,  in  red  livery, 
grinning  with  delight  at  what  he  thought  the  brown  man's 
discomfiture,  held  it  up  for  him  to  put  his  arms  into.  Dr. 
Whitaker  noticed  the  fellow's  malevolent  grin,  and  making 
an  ineffectual  effort  to  push  his  left  arm  down  the  right  arm 
sleeve,  seized  the  coat  argrily  in  his  hand,  doubled  it  up  in 
%  loose  fold  over  his  elbow,  and  then,  changing  his  mind, 
as  an  angry  man  will  do,  flung  it  down  again  with  a  hasty 
gesture  upon  the  hall  table.  *  Never  mind  the  coat,'  he 
said  fiercely.  *  Bring  round  my  horse  t  Do  you  hear, 
fellow  ?    My  horse,  my  horse  1     This  minute,  I  tell  yon  I ' 

The  red-Uveried  servant  called  to  an  invisible  negro 
outside,  who  soon  returned  with  the  doctor's  mountain 
pony. 

'  Better  take  de  coat,  sah,'  the  man  in  livery  said  with 
A  sarcastic  guffaw.  *  Him  help  to  proteck  your  back  an' 
sides  from  Mistah  Dupuy,  him  horsewhip ! ' 

Dr.  Whitaker  leaped  upon  his  horse,  and  turned  to  the 
man  with  a  face  Uvid  and  distorted  with  irrepressible  anger. 
*  Yon  black  devil,  you  I '  he  cried  passionately,  using  the 
words  of  reproach  that  even  a  mulatto  will  hurl  in  his 
wrath  at  his  still  darker  brother, '  do  vou  think  I'm  running 
awa^  firon.  Tom  Dupuy's  miserable  horsewhip  ?  I'm  not 
afraid  of  a  L'ui:^dred  fighting  Dupuys  and  all  their  horse- 
whips. Let  ^im  dare  to  touch  me,  and,  by  Heaven,  he'll 
find  he'd  better  far  have  touched  the  devil. — Yon  black 
image,  you !  how  dare  you  speak  to  me  ?  How  dare  you 
— how  dare  you  ?  '  And  he  cut  at  him  viciously  in  impo- 
tent rage  with  the  little  riding- whip  he  held  in  his  fingers. 

The  negro  laughed  again,  a  loud  hoarse  laugh,  and 
flung  both  his  hands  up  with  open  fingers  in  African 


91 


164 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


derision.  Dr.  Whitaker  dug  his  spnrless  heel  deep  into 
his  horse's  side,  sitting  there  wildly  in  his  evening  dress, 
and  tamed  his  head  in  mad  despair  out  towards  the  outer 
darkness.  The  moon  was  still  shining  brightly  overhead, 
but  by  contrast  with  the  lights  in  the  gaily  illuminated 
ball-room,  the  path  beneath  the  bamboo  clumps  in  the 
shrubbery  looked  very  gloomy,  dark,  and  sombre. 

Two  or  three  of  the  younger  men,  anxious  to  see 
whether  Tom  Dupny  would  get  up  •  a  scene '  then  and  there, 
crowded  out  hastily  to  the  doorway,  to  watch  the  nigger 
fellow  ride  away  for  his  life  for  fear  of  a  horsewhipping. 
As  they  stood  in  the  doorway,  peering  into  the  darkness 
after  the  retreating  upright  figure,  there  came  all  at  once, 
with  appalling  suddenness,  a  solitary  vivid  flash  of  lightning, 
such  as  one  never  sees  outside  the  tropics,  illuminating  with 
its  awful  light  the  whole  length  of  the  gardens  and  the 
gully  beneath  them.  At  the  same  second,  a  terrific  clap 
of  thunder  seemed  to  burst,  like  innumerable  volleys  of  the 
heaviest  artillery,  right  above  the  roof  of  the  Governor's 
bungalow.  It  was  ghastly  in  its  suddenness  and  in  its 
strength.  No  one  could  say  where  the  lightning  struck, 
for  it  seemed  to  have  struck  on  every  side  at  once :  all  that 
they  saw  was  a  single  sheet  of  aU-pervading  fire,  in  whose 
midst  the  mulatto  and  his  horse  stood  silhouetted  out  in 
solid  black,  a  statuesque  group  of  Hving  sculpture,  against 
the  brilliant  fiery  backgromid.  The  horse  was  rearing, 
erect  on  his  hind  legs ;  and  Dr.  Whitaker  was  reining  him 
in  and  patting  his  neck  soothingly  with  hand  half  lifted. 
So  instantaneous  was  the  fiash,  indeed,  that  no  motion  or 
change  of  any  sort  was  visible  in  the  figures.  The  horse 
looked  like  a  horse  of  bronze,  poised  in  the  air  on  solid 
metal  legs,  and  merely  simulating  the  action  of  rearing. 

For  a  minute  or  two,  not  a  soul  spoke  a  word,  or  broke 
in  any  way  the  deathless  silence  that  succeeded  that  awful 
and  unexpected  outburst.  The  band  had  ceased  playing  as 
if  by  instmct,  and  everv  person  in  the  ball-room  stood  still 
and  looked  one  at  another  with  mute  amazement.  Then, 
by  a  common  impulse,  they  pressed  all  out  slowly  together, 
and  gazed  forth  with  wondering  eyes  upon  the  serene  moon- 
light.   The  stars  were  shining  brightly  overhead :  the  olap 


IN  ALL  BHADEB 


1C« 


had  broken  from  an  absolately  dear  sky.  Onl j  to  northward, 
on  the  very  summits  of  the  highest  mountains,  a  gathering 
of  deep  black  clouds  rolled  slowly  onward,  and  threatened 
tc  pass  across  the  intervening  valley.  Through  the  pro- 
found silence,  the  ring  of  Dr.  Whitaker's  horse's  hoofs 
could  be  heard  distinctly  down  below  upon  the  solid  floor 
of  the  mountain  pathway. 

'  Who  has  left  already  t  *  the  Governor  asked  anxiously 
of  the  negro  servants. 

'  Dr.  Whitaker,  your  Excellency,  sah,'  the  man  in  red 
livery  answered,  grinning  respectfully. 

'  Call  him  back  1 '  the  Governor  said  in  a  tone  of  com- 
mand. '  There's  an  awful  thunderstorm  coming.  No  man 
will  ever  get  down  alive  to  the  bottom  of  the  valley  until 
it's  over.' 

'It  doan't  no  use,  sah,'  the  negro  answered.  'His 
horse's  canterin'  down  de  hill-side  de  same  as  if  him  starin' 
mad,  sah  I '  And  as  ho  spoke,  Dr.  Whitaker's  white  shirt- 
front  gleamed  for  a  second  in  the  moonlight  far  below,  at  a 
turn  of  the  path  beside  the  threatening  gully. 

Almost  before  any  one  could  start  to  recall  him,  the  rain 
and  thunder  were  upon  them  with  tropical  violence.  The 
clouds  had  drifted  rapidly  across  the  sky  ;  the  light  of  the 
moon  was  completely  effaced ;  black  darkness  reigned  over 
the  mountains  ;  not  a  star,  not  a  tree,  not  an  object  of  any 
sort  could  now  be  discerned  through  the  pitchy  atmosphere. 
Bain  I  it  was  hardly  rain,  but  rather  a  continuous  torrent 
outpoured  as  from  some  vast  aerial  fountain.  l!i\cry  minute 
or  two  a  terrific  flash  lighted  up  momentarily  the  gloomy 
darkness ;  and  almost  simultaneously,  loud  peals  of  thunder 
bellowed  and  re-echoed  from  peak  to  peak.  The  dance  was 
interrupted  tor  the  time  at  least,  and  everybody  crowded 
out  silently  to  the  veranda  and  the  corridors,  where  the 
lightning  and  the  rain  could  be  more  easily  seen,  mingling 
with  the  thunder  in  one  hideous  din,  and  forming  torrents 
that  rushed  down  the  dry  gullies  in  roaring  cataracts  to 
tlie  plains  below. 

And  Dr.  Whitaker  ?  On  he  rode,  the  lightning  terrify- 
ing his  httle  mountain  pony  at  every  flash,  the  rain  beating 
down  upon  him  meroilesaly  with  et^uatoriai  fieretness,  the 


IM 


119  ALL  BBADSa 


darkness  itretohing  in  firont  of  him  and  below  him,  save 
when,  every  now  and  then,  the  awful  forks  of  flame  ilia- 
mined  for  a  second  the  gulfs  and  precipices  tiiat  yawned 
beneath  in  profoundest  gloom.  Yet  still  he  rode  on,  erect 
and  heedless,  his  hat  now  lost,  bareheaded  to  thejpitiless 
storm,  cold  without  and  flery  hot  at  heart  within.  Ue  cared 
for  nothing  now — for  nothing — for  nothing.  Nora  had 
put  the  final  coping-stone  on  that  grim  growth  of  black 
despair  witLk:  his  soul,  that  palace  of  nethermost  darkness 
which  alone  he  was  heuceforth  to  inhabit.  Nay,  in  the 
heat  and  bitterness  of  the  moment,  had  he  not  even  sealed 
his  own  doom  ?  Had  he  not  sunk  down  actually  to  the 
level  of  those  who  despised  and  contemned  him  ?  Had  he 
not  used  words  of  contemptuous  insolence  to  his  own  colour, 
in  the  *  black  devil '  he  had  flung  so  wildly  at  the  head  of 
the  negro  in  Uvery  ?  What  did  it  matter  now  whatever 
happened  to  him  ?  All,  all  was  lost ;  and  he  rode  on  reck- 
lessly, m?dly,  despairingly,  down  that  wild  and  precipitoui 
mountain  pathway,  he  Imew  not  and  he  cared  not  whither. 

It  was  a  narrow  track,  a  mere  thread  of  bridle-path, 
dangerous  enough  even  in  ^e  best  of  seasons,  hong  half- 
way up  the  steep  hill-side,  with  the  peak  rising  sheer  above 
on  one  hand,  and  the  precipice  yawning  black  beneath  on 
the  other.  Stones  and  creepers  cambered  the  ground; 
pebbles  and  earth,  washed  down  at  once  by  the  vivolenoe  of 
the  storm,  blocked  and  obliterated  the  track  in  many  places ; 
here,  a  headlong  torrent  tore  across  it  with  resistless  vehe- 
mence ;  there,  a  little  chasm  marked  the  spot  where  a 
small  landslip  had  rendered  it  impassable.  The  horse 
floundered  and  reared  and  backed  up  again  and  again  in 
startled  terror ;  Dr.  Whitaker,  too  reckless  at  last  even  to 
pat  and  encourage  him.  let  him  go  whatever  way  his  fancy 
led  him  among  the  deep  brake  of  cactuses  and  tree-ferns. 
And  Btill  the  rain  descended  in  vast  sheets  and  flakes  of 
water,  and  still  the  lightning  flashed  and  quivered  among 
the  ravines  and  guUies  of  those  torn  and  crumpled  moun- 
tain sides.  The  mulatto  took  no  notice  any  longer ;  he  only 
sang  aloud  in  a  wild,  defiant,  half-orazy  voice  the  groamng 
notes  of  his  own  terrible  Hurricane  Symphony. 

Bo  Ihey  went,  on  and  down,  on  and  dawn,  on  and 


IN  ALL  BTJADEB 


isr 


flown  always,  throngh  fire  and  water,  the  horse  pltmging 
and  kicking  and  backing;  the  rider  flinging  his  arms 
carelessly  around  him,  till  they  reached  the  bend  in  the 
road  beside  Louis  Delgado's  mud  cottage.  The  old  African 
was  sitting  cross-legged  by  himself  at  the  door  of  his  hut, 
watching  the  rain  grimly  by  the  intermittent  light  of  the 
frequent  flashes.  Suddenly,  a  vivider  flash  than  any  burst 
in  upon  him,  with  a  fearful  clap ;  and  by  its  light,  ne  saw 
a  great  gap  in  the  midst  of  the  path,  twenty  yards  wide, 
close  by  the  cottage ;  and  at  its  upper  end,  a  horse  and 
rider,  trembling  on  the  very  brink  of  the  freshly  out  abyss. 

Next  instant  the  flash  was  gone,  and  when  the  next 
came  Louis  Delgado  saw  nothing  but  the  gap  itself  and 
the  wild  torrent  that  had  so  instantly  cut  it. 

The  old  man  smiled  an  awful  smile  of  gratified  male- 
volence. *  Ha,  ha  r  he  said  to  himself  aloud,  hugging  his 
withered  old  breast  in  malicious  joy ;  'I  guess  dat  buckra 
lyin'  dead  by  now,  down,  down,  down,  at  de  bottom  ob  de 
gully.  Ha,  ha  1  ha,  ha,  ha !  him  lyin'  dead  at  de  bottom  ob 
de  gully ;  an'  it  one  buckra  de  less  left  alive  to  bodder  us 
here  in  de  island  ob  Trinidad.'  He  had  not  seen  the 
mulatto's  face;  but  he  took  him  at  once  to  be  a  white 
man  because,  in  spite  of  rain  and  spattered  mud,  his  white 
shirt  front  still  showed  out  distinctly  in  the  red  glare  of 
the  vivid  lightning. 


m 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

No  human  eye  ever  again  beheld  Wilberlorce  Whitalcer, 
alive  or  dead.  The  torrent  that  had  washed  down  the  gap 
in  the  narrow  horsepath  tore  away  with  it  in  the  course 
of  that  evening's  rain  a  great  mass  of  tottering  earth  that 
had  long  trembled  on  the  edge  of  the  precipice ;  and  when 
next  day  the  Governor's  servants  went  down  in  awed 
silence  to  hunt  among  the  dubris  for  the  mangled  body, 
they  found  nothing  but  a  soaked  hat  on  the  road  behind, 
and  a  broken  riding-whip  close  to  the  huge  rent  that 
yawned  across  the  path  by  the  crumbUng  ledge  of  newly 
fallen  olay.    Louis  i^elgaao  alone  could  tell  of  what  had 


\m 


nr  ALL  SBADES 


happened ;  and  in  Louis  i>elgado'(«  opinion,  Dr.  Whitaker'a 
cruahed  and  shapeless  body  must  be  lying  below  under 
ten  thousand  tons  of  landslip  rubbish.  '  I  see  de  gentle- 
man haltin'  on  de  brink  ob  de  hole,'  he  said  a  hundred 
times  over  to  his  gossips  next  day, '  and  I  tink  I  hear  him 
call  alond  someting  as  him  go  ober  de  tip  ob  de  big  preci- 
pice. But  it  doan't  sound  to  me  ezackly  as  if  him  scared 
and  shoutin' ;  'pears  more  as  if  him  singing  to  hisself  a 
kind  ob  mournful  miserable  psalm  tune.' 

In  tropical  countries,  people  are  accustomed  to  hurri- 
canes and  thunderstorms  and  landslips  and  sudden  death 
in  every  form — does  not  the  Church  service  even  contain 
that  weirdly  suggestive  additional  clause  among  the  peti- 
tions of  the  Liitany, '  From  earthquake,  tempest,  and  violent 
commotion,  good  Lord,  dehver  us '  ? — and  so  nobody  ever 
tried  to  dig  up  Wilberibrce  Whitaker's  buried  body ;  and 
if  they  had  tried,  they  would  never  have  succeeded  in  the 
vain  attempt,  for  a  thousand  tons  of  broken  fragments  lay 
on  top  of  it,  and  crushed  it  to  atoms  beneath  them.  Poor 
old  Bobby  felt  the  loss  acutely,  after  his  childish  fashion, 
for  nearly  a  fortnight,  and  then  straightway  proceeded  to 
make  love  as  usual  Miss  Seraphina  and  the  other  ladies, 
and  soon  forgot  his  whole  trouble  in  that  one  congenial 
lifelong  occupation. 

Nora  Dupuy  did  not  so  quickly  recover  the  shock  that 
the  mulatto's  sudden  and  almost  supernatural  death  had 
given  her  system.  It  was  many  weeks  before  she  began  to 
feel  hke  herself  again,  or  to  trust  herself  in  a  room  alone 
for  more  than  a  vory  few  minutes  together.  Born  West 
Indian  as  she  was,  and  therefore  superstitious,  she  almost 
feared  that  Dr.  Whitaker's  ghost  would  come  to  plead  his 
cause  with  her  once  more,  as  he  himself  had  pleaded  with 
her  that  last  unhappy  evening  on  the  Italian  terrace.  It 
wasn't  her  fault,  to  be  sure,  that  she  had  been  the  unwitting 
cause  of  his  death  ;  and  yet  in  her  own  heart  she  felt  to 
herself  almost  as  if  she  had  deliberately  and  intentionally 
killed  him.  That  insuperable  barrier  of  race  that  had  stood 
80  effectually  in  his  way  while  he  was  still  alive  was  partly 
removed  now  that  she  could  no  longer  see  him  in  person ; 
and  more  than  once,  Nora  found  herself  in  her  own 


IN  ALL  aHADBB 


room  with  tears  standing  in  both  her  eyes  for  the  poor 
mulatto  she  could  never  possibly  or  conceivably  havt 
married. 

As  for  Tom  Dupuy,  he  couldn't  understand  such  deli- 
cate  shades  and  undertones  of  feeling  as  those  which  came 
80  naturally  to  Nora ;  and  he  had,  therefore,  a  short  and 
easy  explan^  tion  of  his  own  for  his  lively  httle  cousin'i 
altered  demeanour.  '  Nora  was  in  love  with  that  infernal 
nigger  fellow,'  he  said  confidently  over  and  over  again  to 
his  Uncle  Theodore.  *  You  take  my  word  for  it,  she  was 
head  over  ears  in  love  with  him ;  that's  about  the  size  of 
it.  And  that  evening  when  she  behaved  so  disgracefully 
with  him  on  the  tei'race  at  the  Governor's,  he  proposed  to 
her,  and  she  accepted  him,  as  sure  as  gospel.  If  I  hadn't 
threatened  him  with  a  good  sound  horsewhipping,  and  driven 
him  away  from  the  house  in  a  deuce  of  a  funk,  so  that  he 
went  off  with  his  tail  between  his  legs,  and  broke  his  damned 
neck  over  a  precipice  in  that  terrible  thunderstorm — you 
mark  my  words,  Uncle  Theodore — she'd  have  gone  off,  M 
J  always  said  she  would,  and  she'd  have  ended  by  marrying 
a  woolly-headed  brown  man.' 

Mr.  Theodore  Dupuy,  for  his  part,  considered  that  even 
to  mention  the  bare  possibihty  of  such  a  disgrace  within 
the  bosom  of  the  family  was  an  insult  to  the  pure  blood  of 
the  Dupuys  that  his  ncpliow  Tom  ought  to  have  been  the 
last  man  on  earth  to  dream  of  perpetrating. 

Time  rolled  on,  however,  month  after  month,  and 
gradually  Nora  began  to  recover  something  of  her  natural 
gaiety.  Even  deep  impressions  last  a  comparatively  short 
time  with  bright  young  girls;  and  before  six  months  raoie 
had  fairly  rolled  by,  Nora  was  again  the  same  gav,  Ught, 
merry,  dancing  little  thing  that  she  had  always  Leen,  in 
England  or  in  Trinidad. 

One  morning,  about  twelve  months  after  Nora's  first 
arrival  in  the  island,  the  English  mail  brought  a  letter  for 
her  father,  which  he  read  with  evident  satisfaction,  and 
th^n  handed  it  contentedly  to  Nora  across  the  breakfut- 
table.  Nora  recdijniscd  the  crnst  and  mono^Tara  in  A 
moment  vnih  a  faint  flutter:  she  had  seen  theui  once  be- 
fore, a  year  ago,  in  England.    They  were  Harry  Neel'i. 


170 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


Bat  the  postmark  was  Barbadoes.    She  read  the  letter 
eagerly  and  hastily. 

'  Deab  Sib  ' — it  ran — '  I  have  had  the  pleasure  already 
of  meeting  some  members  of  your  family  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Atlantic ' — that  was  an  overstatement,  Nora  thought 
to  herself  quietly ;  the  plural  for  tlie  singular — '  and  as  I 
have  come  out  to  look  after  some  property  of  my  father's 
here  in  Barbadoes,  I  propose  to  run  across  to  Trinidad  also, 
by  the  next  steamer,  and  gain  a  little  further  insight  into 
the  habits  and  manners  of  the  West  Indies.  My  intention 
is  to  stop  during  my  stay  with  my  friend  Mr.  Hawthorn, 
who^as  you  doubtless  know — ^holds  a  District  jud<;eship 
or  something  of  the  sort  somewhere  in  Trinidad.  But  I 
think  it  best  at  the  same  time  to  inclose  a  letter  of  intro- 
duction to  yourself  from  General  iSir  Henry  LaboutiUiSre, 
whom  I  dare  say  you  reinoinber  as  formerly  commandant  of 
Port-of- Spain  when  the  Hundred  and  Fil'tieth  were  in  your 
island.  I  shall  do  myself  the  honour  of  calling  upon  you 
very  shortly  after  my  arrival,  and  am  meanwhile,  very 
faithfully  yours,  Harry  Nobl.' 

The  letter  of  introduction  which  accompanied  this  very 
formal  note  briefly  set  forth  that  Sir  Walter  Noel,  Mr. 
Noel's  father,  was  an  exceedingly  old  and  intimate  friend 
of  the  writer's,  and  that  he  would  feel  much  obliged  if  Mr. 
Dupuy  would  pay  young  Mr.  Noel  any  attentions  in  his 
power  during  his  short  stay  in  the  island  of  Trinidad. 

It  would  be  absurd  to  deny  that  Nora  felt  flattered. 
She  blushed,  and  blushed,  and  blushed  again,  with  un- 
mistakable pleasure.  To  be  sure,  she  had  refused  Harry 
Noel;  and  if  he  were  to  ask  her  again,  even  now,  she 
would  refuse  him  a  second  time.  But  no  girl  on  earth  is 
wholly  proof  in  her  own  heart  against  resolute  persistence. 
Even  if  she  doesn't  care  a  pin  for  the  man  from  the  matri- 
monial point  of  view,  yet  provided  only  he  is  *  nice '  and 
'  eUgible,'  she  feels  naturally  flattered  by  the  mere  fact  that 
he  pays  her  attention.  If  the  attention  is  marked  and 
often  renewed,  the  flattery  is  all  the  deeper,  subtler,  and 
more  effective.  But  here  was  Harr^  Noel,  pursuant  of  his 
threat  (w  ihoold  we  rather  say  his  promise?},  following 


nr  ALL  8BADE8 


m 


her  up  right  aerora  the  Atlantic,  and  eoming  to  lay  siegt 
to  her  heart  with  dae  fomialities  once  more,  in  the  verj 
centre  of  her  own  stronghold !  Yes,  Nora  was  undeniably 
pleased.  Of  coarse,  she  didn't  care  for  him ;  oh  dear  no, 
not  the  least  little  bit  in  the  world,  really ;  bat  still,  even 
if  yon  don't  want  to  accept  a  lover,  you  know,  it  is  at  any 
rate  pleasant  to  have  the  opportunity  of  a  second  time 
cruelly  rejecting  him.  So  Nora  blushed,  and  smiled  to 
herself,  and  blushed  over  again,  and  felt  by  no  means  oat 
of  homoor  at  Harry  Noel's  evident  persistence. 

*  Well,  Nora  ?  '  her  father  said  to  her,  eyeing  her  inter- 
rogatively.    *  What  do  yoa  think  of  it  ? ' 

'I  think,  papa,  Mr.  Noel's  a  very  gentlemanly,  nice 
young  man,  of  a  very  good  old  English  family.' 

'  Yes,  yes,  Nora :  I  know  that,  of  course.  I  see  as 
much  from  Sir  Henry  LaboutilliSre's  letter  of  introduction. 
But  what  I  mean  is,  we  must  have  him  here,  at  Orange 
Grove,  naturally,  mustn't  we?  It  would  never  do,  you 
see,  to  let  a  member  of  the  English  aristocracy '—Mr. 
Dupay  dwelt  lovingly  upon  these  latter  words  with  some 
unction,  as  preachers  dwell  with  lingering  cadence  upon 
the  special  shibboleths  of  their  own  particular  sect  or  per- 
suasion— 'go  to  stop  with  such  people  as  your  coloured 
friends  over  yonder  at  Mulberry,  the  Hawtcoma.' 

Nora  was  silent. 

'  Why  don't  yoa  answer  me,  miss  f '  Mi*.  Dupay  asked 
testily,  after  waiting  for  a  moment  in  silent  expectation. 

'  Because  I  will  never  speak  to  you  about  my  own 
friends,  papa,  when  you  choose  to  tcdk  of  them  in  sooh 
untrue  and  undeserved  language.' 

Mr.  Dupuy  smiled  urbajiely.  He  was  in  a  good  humour. 
It  flattered  him,  too,  to  think  that  when  members  of  the 
Enghsh  aristocracy  came  out  to  Trinidad  they  should 
naturally  select  him,  Theodore  Dupuy,  Esquire,  of  Orange 
Grove,  as  the  proper  person  towards  whom  to  look  for 
hospitality.  The  fame  of  the  fighting  Dupuys  was  probably 
not  unknown  to  the  fashionable  world  even  in  London.  They 
were  recognised  and  talked  about.  So  Mr.  Dupuy  merely 
■miled  a  bland  smile  of  utter  obliviousness,  and  observed 
in  the  air  (as  man  do  when  they  are  Addrtssing  nobody  in 


"I 


ITf 


TS  ALL  SHADWn 


partionUur) :  *  Ooloured  people  are  always  ooloared  people,  I 
Buppose,  whether  they're  much  or  Utile  ooloured ;  just  as  a 
dog's  always  a  dog,  whether  he'sagreai  big  heavy  St.  Bernard 
or  a  little  snarling  snapper  of  a  Skye  terrier.  But  anyhow, 
it's  quite  clear  to  me  individuaUy  that  we  can't  let  this  young 
Mr.Noel — a^orson  of  distinction,  Nora,  aperson  of  distinction 
— go  and  stop  at  any  other  house  in  this  island  except  here  at 
Orange  Grove,  I  assure  yon,  my  dear.  Tom  or  I  must  cer- 
tainly go  down  to  meet  the  steamer,  and  bring  him  up  here 
bodily  in  the  buggy,  before  your  friend  Mr.  Hawthorn — about 
whose  personal  complexion  I  prefer  to  say  absolutely 
nothing,  for  good  or  for  evil— has  time  to  fasten  on  him 
and  drag  him  away  by  main  force  to  his  own  dwelling- 

Elace.'    (Mr.  Dupuy  avoided  calling  Mulberry  Lodge  a 
onse  on  principle ;  for  in  the  West  Indies  it  is  an  onder- 
stood  fact  that  only  white  people  live  in  houses.) 

*  But,  papa,'  Nora  cried,  *  you  really  mustn't.  I  don't 
think  you  ought  to  bring  him  up  here.  Wouldn't  it — well, 
you  know,  wouldn't  it  look  just  a  little  pointed,  considering 
there's  nobody  else  at  all  living  in  the  house  except  you 
and  me,  yon  Imow,  papa  ? ' 

*  My  dear,'  Mr.  Dupuy  said,  not  unkindly,  *  a  member 
of  the  English  aristocracy,  r.hen  he  co^'ues  to  Trinidad, 
ought  to  be  received  in  t  je  house  of  one  of  the  recogmsed 
gentry  of  the  island,  and  not  in  that — well,  not  in  the 
dweUmg-place  of  any  person  not  belonging  to  the  aristo- 
cracy of  Trinidad.  Noblesse  oblige,  Nora  ;  noblesse  obUge, 
remember.  Besides,  when  you  consider  the  relation  in 
Tvhich  you  already  stand  to  your  cousin  Tom,  my  dear — 
why,  an  engaged  young  lady,  of  course,  an  engaged  young 
lady  occupies  nearly  the  same  position  in  that  respect  as  if 
she  were  already  actually  married.' 

'  But  I'm  not  engaged,  papa,'  Nora  answered  earnestly. 
'  And  I  never  will  be  to  Tom  Dupuy,  if  I  die  unmarried, 
either.* 

'  That,  my  dear,'  Mr.  Dupuy  responded  blandly,  looking 
at  her  with  parental  fondness, '  is  a  question  on  which  1 
venture  to  think  myself  far  better  quahiied  to  form  an 
opinion  than  a  mere  girl  of  barely  twenty.  Tom  and  I 
hav«  arranged  between  as,  as  I  have  often  already  pointed 


m  ALL  SHADES 


vn 


oat  tn  jOQ,  that;  the  family  estates  ongbt  on  all  aooonnie  to 
be  reunited  in  your  persons.  As  soon  as  yon  are  twenty- 
two,  mjr  dear,  we  propose  that  you  should  marry.  Mean- 
while, ic  can  only  arouse  unseemly  difTerences  within  the 
family  to  discuss  the  details  of  the  question  prematurely. 
I  have  made  up  my  mind,  and  I  will  not  go  back  upon  it. 
A  Dupuy  never  does.  An  to  this  young  Mr.  Noel  who's 
coming  from  Barbadoes,  I  shall  go  down  myself  to  the 
next  steamer,  and  look  out  to  oiler  him  our  hospitaUty  im- 
mediately on  his  arrii^al,  before  any  coloured  people — I 
mention  no  names— can  seize  upon  the  opportunity  of 
intercepting  him,  and  carrying  him  olT  forcibly  against  hii 
will,  bag  and  baggage,  to  tii^  own  dwelling-plaoes.' 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

On  the  morning  when  Harry  Noel  was  to  arrive  in  Trinidad, 
Mr.  Dupuy  and  Edward  Hawthorn  both  came  down  early 
to  the  landing-stage  to  await  the  steamer.  Mr.  Dupuy 
condescended  to  nod  in  a  distant  manner  to  the  young 
judge— he  had  never  forgiven  him  that  monstrous  decision 
in  the  case  of  Ddgado  versits  Dupuy — and  to  ask  ohillily 
whether  he  was  expecting  friends  from  England. 

'  No,*  Edward  Hawthorn  answered  with  a  bow  as  cold 
as  Mr.  Dupuy's  own.  •  I  have  come  ciown  to  meet  an  old 
Enghsh  fiiend  of  mine,  a  Mr.  Noel,  whom  I  knew  very 
well  at  Cambridge  and  m  London,  but  who's  coming  at 
present  only  from  Barbiidoes.' 

Mr.  Dupuy  astutely  hold  his  tongue.  Noblesse  did  not 
•0  far  impose  upon  him  as  to  obli^'e  him  to  confess  that  it 
was  Harry  Noel  he,  too,  had  come  down  in  search  of.  But 
as  soon  as  the  steamer  was  well  alongside,  Mr.  Dupuy,  in 
his  stately,  slow.  West  Indian  manner,  sailed  ponderously 
down  the  special  gangway,  and  asked  a  steward  at  once  to 
point  out  to  him  which  of  the  passengers  was  Mr.  Noel. 

Harry  Noel,  when  he  received  Mr,  Dupuy's  pressing 
invitation,  was  naturally  charmod  at  the  prospect  of  thus 
being  quartered  onder  the  same  roof  with  pretty  UtUf 


114 


nr  ALL  BBADBB 


Nora.  Had  he  known  the  whole  circumstaneei  of  the  eaae, 
indeed,  his  native  good  feeling  would,  of  oonne,  have 
prompted  him  to  go  to  the  Hawthorns' ;  bnt  Edward  had 
been  restrained  by  a  certain  sense  of  false  shame  from 
writing  the  whole  truth  about  this  petty  local  race  prejudice 
to  his  friend  in  England ;  and  so  Harry  jumped  at  once  at 
the  idea  of  being  so  comfortably  received  into  the  very 
house  of  which  he  so  greatly  desired  to  become  an  inmate. 
*  You're  very  good,  I'm  sure,*  he  answered  in  his  oflF-hand 
manner  to  the  old  planter.  '  Upon  my  word,  I  never  met 
anything  in  mj  hie  to  equal  your  open-hearted  West 
Indian  hospitahty.  Wherever  one  goes,  one's  uniformly 
met  with  open  arms.  I  shall  be  dehghted,  Mr.  Dupuy,  to 
put  up  at  your  place — Orange  Grove,  I  think  you  call  it — 
ah,  exactly — if  you'll  kindly  permit  me. — Here,  you  fellow, 
go  down  below,  will  you,  and  ask  for  my  luggage.' 

Edward  Hawthorn  was  a  minute  or  two  too  late. 
Harry  came  forward  eagerly  in  the  old  friendly  fashion,  to 
grasp  his  hand  with  a  hard  grip,  but  explained  to  him 
with  a  look,  which  Edward  immediately  understood,  that 
Orange  Grove  succeeded  in  offering  him  superior  attrac- 
tions even  to  Mulberry.  So  the  very  next  morning  found 
Nora  and  Haivy  Noel  seated  together  at  lunch  at  Mr. 
Dupuv's  well-loaded  table;  while  Tom  Dupuy,  who  had 
actuauY  stolen  an  hour  or  two  from  his  beloved  canes, 
dropped  in  casually  to  take  stock  of  this  new  possible  rival, 
as  oe  half  suspected  the  ga^  young  Englishman  would 
iom  oat  to  be.  From  the  nrst  moment  that  their  eyes 
met,  Tom  Dupuv  conceived  an  immediate  dislike  and  dis- 
trust for  Harry  Noel.  What  did  he  want  coming  here  to 
Trinidad?  Tom  wondered:  a  fine-spoken,  stuck-up,  easy< 
going,  haw-haw  Londoner,  of  the  sort  that  your  true-born 
colonist  hates  and  detosts  with  all  the  force  of  his  good- 
hater's  nature.  Harry  irritated  him  immensely  by  his  natural 
superiority :  a  man  of  Tom  Dupuy's  type  can  forgive  any- 
thing in  any  other  man  except  higher  intelligence  and 
better  breeding.  Those  are  quaUties  for  which  he  feels  a 
profound  contempt,  not  unmingled  with  hatred,  envy, 
malice,  and  all  oncharitableness.  So,  as  soon  as  Nora 
had  risen  from  the  table  and  the  m>m  were  left  alone, 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


m 


West  Indian  fashion,  to  their  afternoon  cigar  And  cup  of 
coffee,  Tom  Dupuy  began  to  open  fire  at  once  on  Harry 
about  his  precious  coloured  i'riends  the  Hawthorns  at 
Mulberry. 

*  So  you've  come  across  partly  to  see  that  new  man  at 
the  Westmoreland  District  Court,  have  you?'  he  said 
sneeriiigly,  •  Well,  I  dare  Bay  he  was  considered  fit  com- 
pany for  gentlemen  over  in  Eiifjland,  Mr.  Noel — people 
seem  to  have  very  queer  ideas  about  what's  a  gentleman 
and  what's  not,  over  in  England — but  though  I  didn't  like 
to  speiik  aboui  it  before  Nura,  seeing  that  they're  friends 
of  hers,  I  think  I  ought  to  wain  you  beforehand  that  you 
mustn't  have  too  much  to  say  to  them  if  you  want  to  get 
on  out  hero  in  Trinidad.  People  here  are  a  trille  particular 
about  their  company.' 

Harry  looked  across  curiously  at  the  young  planter, 
leaning  back  in  awkward  fashion  with  legs  outstretohod 
and  half  turned  away  from  the  table,  as  he  sipped  iiis 
cofVee,  and  answered  quietly,  with  some  little  surprise: 
•  Why,  yes,  Mr.  Dupuy,  I  think  our  English  idea  of  what 
constitutes  a  gentleman  does  differ  slightly  in  some  respects 
&om  the  one  I  find  current  out  here  in  the  W^est  Indies. 
I  knew  Hawthorn  intimately  for  several  years  at  Cambridge 
and  in  London,  and  the  more  I  knc  w  of  him  the  better  I 
liked  him  and  the  more  I  respected  him.  He's  a  little  bit 
too  radical  for  me,  I  confess,  and  a  httle  bit  too  learned  as 
well ;  but  in  every  other  way,  I  can't  imagine  what 
possible  objection  you  can  bring  against  him.' 

Tom  Dupuy  smiled  an  ugly  smile,  and  gazed  hard  at 
Harry  Noel's  dark  and  handsome  face  and  features.  '  Well,' 
be  said  slowly,  a  malevolent  light  gleaming  hastily  from 
his  heavy  eyes,  '  we  West  Indians  may  be  prejudiced ;  they 
Bay  we  are;  but  still,  we're  not  fond  somehow  of  making 
too  free  with  a  pack  of  niggers.  Now,  I  don't  say  your 
friend  Hawthorn's  exactly  a  niggor  outside,  to  look  at :  he 
isn't :  he's  managed  to  hide  the  outer  show  of  his  colour 
finely.  I've  seen  a  good  many  regular  white  people,  or 
what  passed  for  white  people ' — and  here  he  glanced 
significantly  at  the  fin;  -spi)kon  Ijondcnor's  dark  lingers, 
toying  easily  with  the  umbor  mouthpioco  of  his  dainty 


17t 


nr  ALL  SjJadeb 


I  : 

JJ'I  ' 

Dil  > 


cigar-holder — *who  were  a  good  many  shadei  darker  in 
the  skin  than  this  fellow  Hawthorn,  for  all  thev  thought 
themselves  such  very  grand  gentlemen.  Some  of  'em  may 
he  coloured,  and  some  of  'em  mayn't :  there's  no  kiiowing, 
when  once  you  get  across  to  England ;  for  people  there 
have  no  proper  pride  of  race,  I  understand,  and  would 
marry  a  coloured  girl,  if  she  happened  to  have  money,  as 
soon  as  look  at  her.  I3ut  this  fellow  Hawthorn,  though  he 
seems  externally  as  white  as  yon  do— and  a  great  deal 
whiter  too,  by  Jove — is  well  known  out  here  to  be  nothing 
but  a  coloured  person,  as  his  father  and  his  mother  were 
before  him.' 

Harry  Noel  pufifed  out  a  long  stream  of  white  smoke 
as  he  answered  carelessly :  '  Ah,  I  dare  say  he  is,  if  what 
you  mean  is  just  that  he's  got  some  remote  sort  of  ne^o 
tinge  somewhere  about  him — though  he  doesn't  look  it ; 
but  I  expect  almost  all  the  old  West  Indian  families,  you 
know,  must  have  intermarried  long  ago,  when  English 
ladies  wore  rare  in  the  colonies,  with  pretty  half-casteB.' 

Quite  unwittingly,  the  young  Englishman  had  trodden 
at  once  on  the  very  tendcrcst  and  dearest  com  of  his 
proud  and  unbending  West  Indian  entertainers.  Pride  of 
blood  is  the  one  form  of  pride  that  thoy  thoroughly  under- 
stand and  sympathise  with ;  and  this  remote  hint  of  a 
possible  (ana  probable)  distant  past  when  the  purity  of  the 
white  race  was  not  quite  so  efficiently  guaranteed  as  it  is 
nowadays,  roused  bo^^  ^he  fiery  Dupuys  immediately  to  a 
white-heat  of  indigr      jn. 

•  Sir,'  Mr.  Theodore  Dupuy  said  stiffly,  *  you  evidently 
don't  understand  the  way  in  which  we  regard  these  ques- 
tions out  here  in  the  colonies,  and  especially  in  Trinidad. 
There  is  one  thing  which  your  English  Parliament  has  not 
taken  from  us,  and  can  never  take  from  us ;  and  that  is 
the  pure  European  blood  which  flows  unsullied  in  all  our 
veins,  nowhere  polluted  by  the  faintest  taint  of  a  vile 
African  intermixture.' 

'  Certainly,'  Mr.  Tom  Dupuy  echoed  angrily,  *  if  yOu 
want  to  call  us  niggers,  you'd  better  call  us  niggers  oat- 
riglit,  in'.d  Tint  he  afraid  01  it.' 

*  Upon   my   lOttl,'    Harry   Noel   answered   with 


IN  ALT,  SHAPES 


vn 


apologetic  smile, '  I  hadn't  the  leiiBt  intention,  mj  dear  sir, 
o(  seemiiig  to  hint  auytliing  against  the  purity  of  blood  in 
West  Indians  generally ;  I  only  meant,  that  if  my  friend 
Hawthorn  who  la  really  a  very  good  fellow  and  a  perfect 
gentleman — does  happen  to  have  a  little  distant  infusion 
nf  negro  hlond  in  him,  it  doesn't  seem  to  me  to  matter 
much  to  any  of  us  nowadays.  It  must  be  awfully  little — a 
mere  nothing,  you  know ;  just  the  amount  one  would 
naturally  expect  if  his  people  had  intermarried  once  with 
balf-castes  a  great  many  generations  ago.  I  was  only 
standing  up  for  my  friend,  you  see.  Surely,'  turning  to 
Tom,  who  still  glared  at  him  like  a  wild  beast  aroused,  '  a 
man  ought  to  stand  up  for  his  frionds  when  he  hears  them 
ill  spoken  of.' 

'  Oh,  quite  so,'  Mr.  Theodore  Dupuy  replied,  in  a  mol- 
lified voice.  '  Of  course,  if  Mr.  Hawthorn's  a  friend  of 
yours,  and  you  choose  to  stand  by  him  here,  in  spite  of  his 
natural  disabilities,  on  the  ground  that  you  happened  to 
know  him  over  in  England — where,  I  believe,  he  concealed 
the  fact  of  his  being  coloured — and  you  don't  like  now  to 
turn  your  back  upon  him,  why,  naturally,  that's  very 
honourable  of  you,  very  honourable. — Tom,  my  dear  boy, 
we  must  both  admit  that  Mr.  Noel  is  acting  very  honour- 
ably. And,  indeed,  we  can't  expect  people  brought  up 
wholly  in  England ' — Mr.  Dupuy  dwelt  softly  upon  this 
fatal  disqualification,  as  though  aware  lliat  Harry  must  be 
rather  ashamed  of  it — '  to  feel  upon  these  points  exactly  as 
we  do,  who  have  a  better  knowledge  and  msight  into  the 
negro  blood  and  the  negro  chanicter.' 

•  Certainly  not,'  Tom  Dupuy  continued  maliciously. 
'  People  in  England  don't  understand  these  things  at  idl 
as  we  do. — Why,  Mr.  Noel,  you  mayn't  be  aware  of  it,  but 
even  among  the  higliost  Englisli  aristocracy  there  are  an 
awful  lot  of  regular  colourid  people,  out-and-out  mulattoes. 
West  Indian  heiressoa  in  tlio  old  days  used  to  go  home — 
brown  girls,  or  at  any  rate  young  women  witli  a  touch  of 
the  tar-brush — daughters  of  governors  and  so  forth,  on 
the  wrong  side  of  the  house — you  understand' — Mr.  Tom 
DuBuy  accompanied  these  last  words  with  an  upward  and 
baokward  jerk  of  his  left  thumb,  eupplvuneuted  by  a  peoa- 


!    ^ 


1 1 


;l 


178 


jy  ALL  8BADEB 


liarly  ugly  grimace,  intended  to  bn  facetious — '  the  lort  of 
trash  no  decent  young  fellow  oyer  ere  would  have  80  much 
as  touched  with  a  pair  of  tongs  (in  liie  way  of  marnring  'em, 
I  mean) ;  and  when  they  got  across  to  England,  hanged  if 
they  weren't  snapped  up  at  once  by  dukes  and  marquises, 
whose  descendants,  after  all,  though  they  may  be  lords, 
are  really  nothing  better,  yoa  see,  than  common  brown 
people  I ' 

He  spoke  snappishly,  but  Harry  only  looked  across  at 
him  in  mild  wonder.  On  the  calm  and  unquestioning  pride 
of  a  Lincolnshire  Noel,  remarks  such  as  these  fell  flat  and 
pointless.  If  a  Noel  had  chosen  to  marry  a  kitchenmaid, 
according  to  their  simple  old-fashioned  faith,  he  would  have 
ennobled  her  at  once,  and  lifted  her  up  into  his  own  exalted 
sphere  of  life  and  action.  Her  children  after  her  would 
have  been  Lincolnshire  Noels,  the  equals  of  any  duke  or 
marquis  in  the  United  Kingdom.  So  Harry  only  smiled 
benignly,  and  answoed  in  his  easy  off- hand  manner :  '  By 
Jove,  I  shouldn't  wonder  at  all  if  that  were  really  the  case 
now.  One  reads  in  Thackeray,  you  know,  so  much  about 
the  wealthy  West  Indian  heiresses,  with  suspiciously  curly 
hair,  who  used  to  swarm  in  London  in  the  old  slavery  days. 
But  of  course,  Mr.  Dupuy,  it's  a  well-known  fact  that  all 
our  good  families  have  been  awfully  recruited  by  actresses 
and  so  forth.  I  believe  some  statistical  fellow  or  other  has 
written  a  book  to  show  that  if  it  weren't  for  the  actresses, 
the  peerage  and  baronetage  would  all  have  died  out  long 
ago,  of  pure  inanition.  I  dare  say  the  West  Indian  heiresses, 
with  the  frizzy  hair,  helped  to  fulfil  the  same  good  and 
useful  purpose,  by  bringing  an  infusion  of  fresh  blood 
every  now  and  then  into  our  old  families.*  And  Harry 
ran  his  hand  carelessly  through  his  ovm  copious  curUng 
black  locks,  in  perfect  unconsciousness  of  the  absurdly 
malapropos  nature  of  that  instinctive  action  at  that  par- 
ticular moment.  His  calm  sense  of  utter  superiority — that 
innate  belief  sr  difficult  to  sliake,  even  on  the  most  rational 
grounds,  in  most  well-bom  and  well-bred  Englishmen — 
kept  him  aven  from  suspecting  the  real  drift  of  Tom 
Pupuy's '  eiterated  innuendoes. 

*  Yo> .  came  oat  to  Barbadoes  to  look  after  some  property 


nr  ALL  BEADEB 


in 


of  yonr  father's,  I  believe  ?  *  Mr.  Dnpnj  pnt  in,  anzions  to 
turn  the  current  of  the  conversation  from  this  very  dangerous 
and  fitful  channel. 

'I  did,'  Harry  Noel  answered  unconcernedly.  'My 
father's,  or  rather  my  mother's.  Her  people  have  property 
there.  We're  connected  with  Barbadoes,  indeed.  My 
mother's  family  were  Barbadian  planters.' 

At  the  word,  Tom  Dupuy  almost  jumped  from  bis  seat 
and  brought  his  fist  down  heavily  upon  the  groaning  table. 
'  They  were  ?  '  he  cried  inquiringly.  *  Barbadian  planters  ? 
By  Jove,  that's  devilish  funnv  I  You  don't  mean  to  sav, 
then,  Mr.  Noel,  that  some  of  your  own  people  were  really 
and  truly  bom  West  Indians  ? ' 

'  Why  the  dickens  should  he  want  to  get  so  very  excited 
about  it  ? '  Harry  Noel  thought  to  himself  hastily.  *  What 
on  earth  can  it  matter  to  him  whetlier  my  people  were 
Barbadian  planters  or  BiUingsgate  fishmongers  ? ' — *  Yes, 
certainly,  they  were,'  he  went  on  to  Tom  Dupuy  with  a 
placid  smile  of  quiet  amusement.  *  Though  my  mother 
was  never  in  the  island  herself  from  the  time  she  was 
a  baby,  I  believe,  still  all  her  family  were  bom  and  bred 
there,  for  some  generations. — But  why  do  you  ask  me? 
Did  you  know  anything  of  her  people—the  Budleighs  qI 
the  Wildemess?' 

'  No,  no ;  I  didn't  know  anything  of  them,'  Tom  Dupuy 
replied  hurriedly,  with  a  curious  glance  sideways  at  ma 
uncle. — *  But,  by  George  I  Uncle  Theodore,  it's  really  a  very 
singular  thing,  now  one  comes  to  think  of  it,  that  Mr.  Nom 
should  happen  to  oome  himself  too,  from  a  West  Indiui 
family.' 

As  Harry  Noel  happened  that  moment  to  be  lifting  hii 
cup  of  coffee  to  hii  lips,  he  didn't  notice  that  Tom  Dupuy 
was  pointing  most  significantly  to  his  own  knuckles,  and 
signalling  to  his  uncle,  with  eyes  and  fingers,  to  observe 
Harry's.  And  if  he  had,  it  isn't  probable  that  Lincolnshire 
Noel  would  even  have  suspected  the  hidden  meaning  of 
those  strange  and  odd-looking  monkey-like  antics. 

By-and-by,  Harry  rose  from  the  table  carelessly,  and 
asked  in  a  casual  way  whether  Mr.  Dupuv  would  kindly 
excuse  him ;  he  wanted  to  go  and  pay  a  call  which  he  felt 


Df  ALL  BEADBB 

he  rMlly  mnitn't  defer  beyond  the  second  day  from  hit 
arrival  in  Trinidad. 

*  Yoa'll  take  a  mooni  t '  Mr.  Dnpny  inquired  hospitably. 
*  You  know,  we  never  dream  of  walking  oat  in  these  regions. 
All  the  horses  in  my  stable  are  entirelv  at  your  disposal. 
How  &r  did  you  propose  going,  Mr.  Noel  ?  A  letter  of 
introduction  you  wish  to  deliver,  I  suppose,  to  the  Governor 
or  somebody?' 

Harnr  paused  and  hesitated  for  a  second.  Then  he 
answered  as  politely  as  he  was  able :  *  No,  not  exactly 
a  letter  of  introduction.  I  feel  I  mustn't  let  the  dav  past 
without  having  paid  my  respects  as  early  as  possible  to 
Mrs.  Hawthorn.' 

Tom  Dupuy  nudged  his  uncle;  but  the  elder  planter 
had  too  much  good  manners  to  make  any  reply  save  to 
remark  that  one  of  his  niggers  would  be  ready  to  show  Mr. 
Noel  the  way  to  the  District  judge's — ah — dwelling-place 
at  Mulberry. 

As  soon  as  Hand's  back  was  turned,  however,  Mr.  Tom 
Dupuy  sank  back  mcontinently  on  the  dining-room  sofa 
and  exploded  in  a  loud  and  hearty  burst  of  boisterous 
laughter. 

'  My  dear  Tom,'  Mr.  Theodore  Dupuy  interposed  ner- 
vously, '  what  on  earth  are  you  doing  ?  Young  Noel  vrill 
cortamly  overhear  you.  Upon  my  word,  though  I  can't  say 
I  agree  with  all  the  young  fellow's  English  sentiments,  I 
really  don't  see  that  there's  anything  in  particular  to  laugh 
at  in  him.  He  seems  to  me  a  very  nice,  gentlomanly,  well- 
bred,  intelligent Why,  goodness  gracious,  Tom,  what 

the  deuce  has  come  over  you  so  suddenly  ?  You  look  for 
all  the  world  as  if  vou  were  positively  gomg  to  kill  yourself 
outright  with  laughing  about  nothing ! ' 

Mr.  Tom  Dupuv  removed  his  handkerchief  hastily  from 
his  mouth,  and  with  an  immense  effort  to  restrain  his  merri- 
ment, exclaimed  in  a  low  suppressed  voice :  *  Good  heavens. 
Uncle  Theodore,  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you  don't  see  the 
whole  joke  1  you  don't  understand  the  foU  absurdity  of  the 
situation  ? ' 

Mr.  Dupuy  gazed  back  at  him  blankly.  *  No  more  than 
I  understand  why  on  earth  you  ore  making  suoh  a  uon- 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


181 


founded  fool  of  yoareelf  now,'  he  answered  oontemp- 

taously. 

Tom  Dupuy  calmed  himself  slowly  with  a  terrific  efifurt, 
aud  blurted  out  at  last  in  a  mysterioun  uurlertone :  '  Why, 
the  point  of  it  is,  don't  you  see,  Uncle  Theodore,  the  fellow's 
a  coloured  man  himself,  as  sure  as  ever  you  and  I  are 
standing  here  this  minute  ! ' 

A  Ught  burst  in  upon  Mr.  Dupuy 's  benighted  mider- 
standing  with  extraordmary  rapidity.  *  He  is  ! '  he  cried, 
clapping  his  hand  to  his  forclicad  hurriedly  in  the  intense 
excitement  of  a  profoundly  important  discovery.  *  He  is, 
ho  is  I  There  can't  be  a  doubt  about  it  1  Baronet  or  no 
baronet,  as  sure  as  fate,  Tom  my  boy,  that  man's  a  regular 
brown  man  I ' 

*  I  knew  he  was,'  Tom  Dupuy  replied  exultantly,  *  the 
very  moment  I  first  set  eyes  upon  that  ugly  head  of  his  I 
I  was  sure  he  was  a  nigg(»>'  as  soon  as  I  looked  at  him  I 
I  suspected  it  at  once  L'on.  his  eyes  and  hi:  knuckles.  But 
when  he  told  me  his  mother  was  a  Barbac'lian  woman — why, 
then,  I  knew,  as  sure  as  fate,  it  was  all  up  with  him.' 

*  You're  quite  right,  quite  riglit,  Tom ;  I  haven't  a 
doubt  about  it,'  Mr.  Theodore  Dupuy  continued  helplessly, 
wringing  his  hands  before  him  in  bewilderment  and  horror. 
'  And  the  worst  of  it  is  I've  asked  him  to  stop  here  as  long 
as  he's  in  Trinidad  I  What  a  terrible  thing  if  it  were  to 
get  about  all  over  the  whole  island  that  I've  asked  a  brown 
man  to  come  and  stop  for  ai>  indefinite  period  under  the  same 
roof  with  your  cousin  Non»  I ' 

Tom  Dupuy  was  not  wanting  in  chivalrous  magnanimity. 
He  leaned  back  on  the  sofa  and  screwed  his  mouth  up  for 
a  moment  with  a  comical  exprossioa  ;  then  he  answered 
slowly  :  •  It's  a  vnry  serious  tiling,  of  course,  to  accuse  a 
man  off-hand  of  being  a  niggor.  Wo  nn'Htn't  condemn  hen 
unheard  or  without  evidence.  Wo  niu  try  to  find  out  all 
we  can  about  his  family.  Luckily,  he's  given  us  the  clue 
hiinHelf.  He  said  his  mntlier  was  a  r>;'rViad1an  woman — 
a  Ihulleigh  of  the  WiUlerness.  We'll  track  him  down. 
I've  made  a  mental  note  of  it ! ' 

Just  at  that  moment,  Nora  walked auietly  into  the  dining- 
room  to  aak  the  gentlemen  whether  they  weant  to  go  for  • 


in 


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ride  by-and-bj  in  the  oool  of  tbe  evening.  '  For  if  yon  do, 
papa,'  she  said  in  explanation,  '  you  know  you  must  send 
for  Nita  to  the  pasture,  for  Mr.  Noel  will  want  a  horse, 
and  you're  too  hoavy  for  any  but  the  oob,  so  you'll  have  to 
get  up  Nita  for  Mr.  Noel.' 

Tom  Dupuy  glanced  at  her  suspiciously.  '  I  suppose 
since  your  last  particular  friend  fell  over  the  ffull^  that 
night  at  Banana  Garden,'  he  said  hastily,  *  you'U  be  picking 
up  next  with  a  new  favourite  in  this  fine-spoken,  new- 
fiangled,  haw-haw,  English  fellow  I  * 

Nora  looked  back  at  him  haughtily  and  defiantly.  '  Tom 
Dupuy,'  she  answered  with  a  curl  of  her  lip  (she  always 
addressed  him  by  both  names  together),  *  you  are  quite 
mistaken — utterly  mistaken.  I  don't  feel  in  the  least  pre- 
possessed by  Mr.  Noel's  personal  appearance.' 

♦  Why  not  ?    \Vhy  not  ?  '  Tom  inquired  eagerly. 

*  I  don't  know  by  what  right  you  venture  to  cross- 
question  me  about  such  a  matter ;  but  aa  you  ask  me,  I 
don't  mind  answering  you.  Mr.  Noel  is  a  shade  or  two 
too  dark  by  far  ever  to  take  my  own  fancy.' 

Tom  whistled  low  to  himself  and  gave  %  little  start. 
'  By  Jove,'  he  said  half  aloud  and  half  to  himself,  *  that 
was  a  Dupuy  that  spoke  that  time,  certainly.  After  all, 
the  girl's  got  some  proper  pride  still  left  in  her.  She 
doesn't  want  to  marry  him,  although  he's  a  brown  man. 
I  always  thought  myself,  as  a  mere  matter  of  taste,  she 
positively  preferred  these  woolly-headed  mulattoes  I  * 


OHAPTEB  XXVt. 

Mbanwhilb,  Harry  Noel  himself  was  quite  nnoonseioasly 
riding  round  to  the  Hawthorns'  cottage,  to  perform  the 
whole  social  duty  of  man  by  Edward  and  Marian. 

*  So  you've  come  out  to  look  after  your  father's  estates 
in  Barbadoes,  have  you,  Mr.  Noel  ? '  Marian  inquired  with 
a  quiet  smile,  after  uie  first  greetings  and  talk  ftbont  the 
voyage  were  well  over. 

Harry  laughed.    *  Well,  Mrs.  Hawthorn/  he  said  eon- 


IN  ALL  8HADEB 


18S 


ildnntially,  *  mj  fiither's  estates  there  seem  to  have  looked 
ftftor  themselves  pretty  comfortably  for  the  last  twenty 

{ream,  or  at  least  been  looked  after  vicariously  by  a  rascally 
ocal  Scotch  attorney ;  and  I've  no  doubt  they'd  have  con> 
tinned  to  look  after  themselves  for  the  next  twenty  yeara 
without  my  intervention,  if  nothing  particular  had  occurred 
otherwise  to  bring  me  out  here.' 

*  Bat  something  particular  did  occur— eh,  Mr.  Noel  ? ' 

'  No,  nothing  occurred,'  Harry  Noel  answered  with  a 
distinct  stress  upon  the  significant  verb.  '  But  I  had 
reasons  of  my  own  which  mad.  me  anxious  tn  isit  Trini- 
dad ;  and  I  thought  Barbad'  ^  ^vould  be  an  excellent 
excuse  to  supply  to  Sir  Walter  for  the  expenses  of  the 
journey.  The  old  gentleman  jumped  at  it — positively 
jumped  at  it.  There's  not  hing  loosens  tiir  Walter's  purse- 
strings  like  a  devotion  to  business  ;  and  he  declnrcd  to  me 
on  leaving,  with  tears  in  his  eyes  almost,  that  it  was  the 
first  time  he  ever  remembered  to  have  seen  me  show  any 
proper  interest  whatsoever  in  the  family  property.* 

*  And  what  were  the  reasons  that  made  you  so  very 
anxious  then  to  visit  Trinidad  ? ' 

'  Whv,  Mrs.  Hawthorn,  how  can  you  ask  me  ?  Wasn't 
I  naturaUy  desirous  of  seeing  you  and  Fidward  once  more 
after  a  year's  absence  ? ' 

Marian  coughed  a  little  dry  cough.  *  Friendship  is  a 
very  powerfully  attractive  mn;3'net.  isn't  it,  Edward?  '  she 
said  with  an  arch  smile  to  her  husband.  *  It  was  very  good 
of  Mr.  Noel  to  have  thought  of  coming  four  thousand 
miles  across  the  Atlantic  just  to  visit  you  and  me,  dear— 
now  wasn't  it  ? ' 

'  So  very  good,'  Edward  answered,  laughing,  *that  I 
should  almost  be  inclined  myself  (as  a  lawyer)  to  suspect 
some  other  underlying  motive.' 

'  Well,  she  if  a  very  dear  httle  girl/  Marian  went  on 
reflectively. 

*  She  is,  certainly,'  her  husband  echoed. 

Harry  laughed.  '  I  see  vou've  found  me  out,*  he  an- 
swered, not  altogether  unpleased.  *  Well,  yes,  I  may  as 
well  make  a  dean  breast  of  it,  Mrs.  Hawthorn.  I've  oome 
MroBB  on  poxpose  to  ask  her ;  and  I  won't  go  back  either 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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Sciences 

Coiporalion 


33  WIST  MAIN  STRUT 

WHSTIR,  I'l.Y.  USIO 

(716)173-4503 


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184 


IN  ALL  8BADB8 


till  I  can  take  her  with  me.  I've  waited  for  twelve  months, 
to  make  quite  sure  I  knew  my  own  heart  and  wasn't  mis- 
taken about  it.  Every  day,  her  image  has  remained  there 
clearer  and  clearer  than  hefore,  and  I  will  win  her,  or  else 
stop  here  for  ever.' 

'  When  a  man  says  that  and  really  means  it,'  Marian 
replied  encouragingly, '  I  believe  in  i>he  end  he  can  always 
wm  the  girl  he  has  set  his  heart  upon.' 

*  But  I  suppose  you  ki^ow,'  Edward  interrupted,  *  that 
her  father  has  already  made  up  his  mind  that  she's  to 
marry  a  cousin  of  hers  at  Pimento  Valley,  a  planter  in  the 
island,  and  has  announced  the  fact  puhhcly  to  half  Trini* 
dad?' 

*  Not  Mr.  Tom  Dupuy  ? '  Harry  cried  in  amazement. 

'  Yes,  Tom  Dupuy — the  very  man.  Then  you've  met 
him  already  ? ' 

'  He  lunched  with  us  to-day  at  Orange  Grove  i '  Harry 
answered,  puckering  his  brow  a  little.  '  And  her  fibthex 
actually  wants  her  to  marry  that  fellow  1  By  Jove,  what  a 
desecration ! ' 

'  Then  you  don't  like  ^7hat  yoa've  seen  so  fu  of  Mr. 
Tom  ?  '  Marian  asked  with  a  smile. 

Harry  rose  and  leaned  agahist  the  piazza  pillar  with  his 
hands  behind  him.  '  The  man's  a  cud,'  he  answered 
hriefly. 

*  Xf  we  were  in  Piccadilly  again,'  Edward  Hawthorn 
said  quietly,  *  I  should  say  that  was  probably  a  piece  of 
pure  class  prejudice,  Noel ;  but  as  we  are  in  Trinidad,  and 
as  I  happen  to  know  Mr.  Tom  Dupuy  by  two  or  three 
pieces  of  personal  adventure,  I  don't  mind  telling  you,  in 
strict  confidence,  I  cordially  agree  with  you.' 

'  Ah  1 '  Harry  Noel  cried  with  much  amusement,  clap- 
ping him  heartily  on  his  broad  shoulder.  '  So  coming 
to  Trinidad  has  knocked  some  of  that  radical  humbug 
and  nonsense  clean  out  of  you,  has  it,  Teddy?  I 
knew  it  would,  my  dear  fellow ;  I  knew  you'd  get  rid 
ofiti' 

•On  the  contrary,  Mr.  Noel,'  Marian  answered  with 
quiet  dignity,  '  I  think  it  has  really  made  us  a  great  deal 
more  confirmed  in  our  own  opinions  than  we  were  to  begin 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


185 


with.  We  have  suffered  a  great  deal  ourselves,  you  know, 
since  we  came  to  Trinidad.' 

Harry  flushed  in  the  face  a  little.  '  You  needn't  tell 
me  all  aoout  it,  Mra  Ha-wthorn.'  he  said  uneasily.  *  I've 
heard  something  about  the  matter  already  from  th^  two 
Dupuys,  and  all  I  can  say  is,  I  never  heard  such  a  foolish, 
vidiculous,  nonsensical,  cock-and-bull  prejudice  as  the  one 
they  told  me  about,  in  the  whole  course  of  my  precious 
existence.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  Nora's  sake — I  mean  for 
Mis?  Dupu^'s ' — and  he  checked  himself  suddenly — '  upon 
my  word,  I  really  think  I  should  have  knocked  the  fellow 
down  in  his  uncle's  dining-room  the  very  first  moment  he 
began  to  speak  about  it.' 

'  Mr.  Noel,'  Marian  said,  *  I  know  how  absurd  it  ap* 
pears  to  you,  but  you  can't  imagine  how  much  Edward 
and  I  have  suflered  about  it  since  we've  been  in  this 
island.' 

'  I  can,'  Harry  answered.  *  I  can  imderstand  it  easily. 
I  had  a  specimen  of  it  myself  from  those  fellows  at  lunch 
this  morning.  I  kept  as  calm  as  I  could  outwardly  ;  but, 
by  Jove,  Mrs.  Hawthorn,  it  made  my  blood  boil  over 
within  me  to  hear  the  way  they  spoke  of  your  husband. — 
Upon  my  soul,  if  it  weren't  for — for  Mies  Dupuy,'  ho 
added  thoughtfully,  '  I  wouldn't  stop  now  a  single  night  to 
accept  that  man's  hospitality  another  minute  alter  the  way 
he  spoke  about  you.' 

*No,  no;  do  stop,'  Marian  answered  simply.  *We 
want  you  so  much  to  marry  Nora ;  and  we  want  to  save 
her  from  that  horrid  man  her  father  has  chosen  for  her.' 

And  then  they  began  unburdening  their  hearts  to  Harry 
Noel  with  the  long  arrears  of  twelve  mo  iths'  continuous 
confidences.  It  was  such  a  relief  to  get  a  little  fresh 
external  sympathy,  to  be  able  to  talk  about  it  all  to  some- 
body just  come  from  Enj^lnnd,  and  entirely  free  from  the 
merest  taint  of  West  Indian  prejudice.  They  told  Harry 
everythmg,  without  reserve ;  and  Harry  listened,  growing 
more  and  more  indignant  every  minute,  to  the  long  story 
of  petty  slights  and  undeserved  insults.  At  last  he  could 
restrain  his  wrath  no  longer.  •  It's  preposterous,'  he  cried, 
walking'  up  and  down  the  piazza  angrily,  by  way  of  giving 


IM 


IN  ALL  SBADES 


vent  to  his  suppressed  emotion ;  it's  abominable  I  H*i  ont* 
rageous  1  it's  not  to  be  borne  with  1  The  i.. ja  of  those 
X)eople,  these  hole-and-corner  nobodies,  these  miserable, 
stupid,  ignorant  noodles,  with  no  more  education  or 
manners  than  an  English  ploughboy— oh  yes,  my  dear 
fuUow,  I  know  what  they  are — I've  seen  them  in  Barbadoes 
—setting  themselves  up  to  be  better  than  you  are— there, 
upon  my  word  I've  really  no  patience  with  it.  I  shall 
kick  some  of  them  soundly,  some  day,  V  3fore  I've  done 
with  them ;  I  know  I  shall.  I  can't  avoid  it.  But  what 
on  earth  can  have  induced  you  to  stop  here,  my  dear 
Teddy,  when  you  might  have  gone  back  again  comfortably 
to  England,  and  have  mixed  properly  iu  the  sort  of  society 
you're  naturally  fitted  for  ?  * 

'  I  did,'  Marian  answered  firmly;  I  induced  him,  Mr. 
Noel.  I  wouldn't  let  him  run  away  from  these  miserable 
people.  And  besides,  you  know,  he's  been  able  to  do  such 
a  lot  of  good  here.  All  the  negroes  love  him  dearly, 
because  he's  protected  them  from  so  much  injustice.  He's 
the  most  popular  man  in  the  island  with  the  black  people ; 
he's  been  so  good  to  them,  and  so  useful  to  them,  and  such 
a  help  against  the  planters,  who  are  always  trying  their 
hardest  to  oppress  them.  And  isn't  that  something  worth 
staying  for,  in  spite  of  everything  ?  * 

Harry  Noel  paused  and  hesitated.  *  Tastes  differ,  Mrs. 
Hawthorn,'  he  answered  more  soberly.  •  For  my  part,  I 
can't  say  I  feel  myself  very  profoundly  interested  in  the 
eternal  nigger  question ;  though,  if  a  man  feels  it's  his 
duty  to  stop  and  see  the  thing  out  to  the  bitter  end,  why, 
of  course  he  ought  in  that  case  to  atop  and  see  it.  But 
what  does  rile  me  is  the  idea  that  these  wretched  Dupuy 
people  &bould  venture  to  talk  in  the  way  they  do  about 
such  a  fellow  as  your  husband — confound  them  1 ' 

Tea  interrupted  his  fiow  of  indignation. 

But  when  Harry  Noel  had  ridden  away  again  towards 
Orange  Grove  on  Mr.  Dupuy's  ponv,  Edward  Hawthorn  and 
his  wife  stood  looking  at  one  another  in  dubious  silence  for 
a  few  minutes.  Neither  of  them  liked  to  utter  the  thought 
that  had  been  uppermost  in  both  their  minds  at  ono«  from 
lh«  first  momont  they  saw  him  in  Trixudadt 


2N  ALL  SHADES 


18T 


At  last  Edward  broke  tlie  ominons  stillness.  '  IlaLTy 
Noel*8  awfally  dark,  isn't  he,  Marian  ? '  he  said  uneasily. 

'  Very/  Marian  answered  in  as  unconcerned  a  voice  as 
she  coidd  well  summon  up.  *  And  so  extremely  handsome, 
(00,  Edward,'  she  added  after  a  moment's  faint  pause,  as  if 
to  turn  the  current  of  the  conversation. 

Neither  of  them  had  ever  observed  in  England  how 
exceedingly  olive-coloured  Harry  Noel's  complexion  really 
was — ^in  England,  to  be  as  dark  as  a  gipsy  is  of  no  import- 
ance; but  now  in  Trinidad,  girt  round  by  all  that  curi- 
ously suspicious  and  genealogically  inquiring  society,  they 
couldn't  help  noticing  to  themselves  what  a  very  dark  skin 
and  what  curly  hair  he  happened  to  have  inherited. 

'  And  his  mother's  a  Barbadian  lady,'  Edward  went  on 
uncomfortably,  pretending  to  play  with  a  bock  and  a  paper- 
knife. 

'  She  is,'  Marian  answered,  hardly  daring  to  look  up  at 
her  husband's  face  in  her  natural  confusion.  '  He — he 
alwagrs  seems  so  very  fond  of  his  mother,  Edward,  darling.' 

Edward  went  on  cutting  the  pages  of  his  newly  arrived 
magazine  in  grim  silence  for  a  few  minutes  longer ;  then 
he  said:  'I  wish  to  goodness  he  could  get  engaged  and 
married  off-hand  to  Nora  Dupay  very  soon,  Marian,  and 
then  clear  out  at  once  and  for  ever  from  this  detestable 
island  as  quickly  as  possible.' 

'It  would  be  better  if  he  oonld,  perhaps,'  Marian 
answered,  sighing  deeply.  'Poor  dear  Nora!  I  wish 
she'd  take  mm.  She  could  never  be  happy  with  that 
horrid  Dupay  man.' 

They  mdn't  dare  to  speak,  one  to  the  other,  the  doubt 
tliat  was  agitating  them ;  but  thev  both  agreed  in  that 
half-unspoken  fashion  that  it  would  be  well  if  Harry  pressed 
his  suit  soon,  before  any  sudden  thunderbolt  had  time  to 
fall  unexpectedly  upon  his  head  and  mar  his  chance  with 
poor  httle  Nora. 

As  Harx^  Noel  rode  back  to  Orange  Grove  alone,  along 
the  level  bndle-path,  he  chanced  to  drop  his  short  riding- 
whip  at  a  torn  of  the  road  by  a  broad  cane-piece.  A  tall 
negro  was  hoeing  vigorously  among  the  luxuriant  rows  of 
eant  «lom  by.    Barry  Noel  called  oat  to  2iim  oarelesaly,  m 


n 


m 


188 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


he  would  have  done  to  a  labourer  at  home :  '  Here  yon,  hi, 
sir,  come  t:nd  pick  up  my  whip,  will  you  ? ' 

The  tall  negro  tumeu  and  stared  at  Lim.  *  "Who  you 
callin'  to  come  an'  pick  up  your  whip,  me  fren'  ? '  he 
answered  somewhat  savagely. 

Harry  Noel  glanced  back  at  the  man  with  an  &ngry 
glare.  *  You  ! '  he  said,  pointing  with  an  imperious  gesture 
to  the  whip  on  the  ground.  '  I  called  you  to  pick  it  up 
for  mc.    Don't  you  understand  Enghsh  ?  Eh  I   Tell  me  ?  ' 

•  You  is  rude  gentleman  for  true,'  the  old  negro  re- 
sponded quietly,  continuing  his  task  of  hoeing  in  the  cane- 
piece,  without  any  attempt  to  pick  up  the  whip  for  the 
unrecognised  stranger.  •  If  you  want  de  whip  picked  up, 
what  for  you  doan't  speak  to  naygur  decently?  Ole-time 
folk  has  proverb,  "  Please  am  a  good  dog,  an'  him  keep 
doan't  cost  nuffin'."  Get  down  yourself,  sah,  an'  pick  up 
your  own  whip  for  you-self  if  you  want  him.' 

Harry  was  just  on  the  point  of  dismounting  and  follow- 
ing the  old  negro's  advice,  with  some  remote  idea  of  apply- 
ing the  whip  immediately  after  to  the  back  of  his  adviser, 
when  a  younger  black  man,  stopping  out  hastily  from 
behind  a  row  of  canes  that  Lad  hitherto  concealed  him, 
took  up  the  whip  and  handed  it  back  to  him  wit/i  a  resfiectful 
salutation.  The  old  man  looked  on  disdainfully  while  Harry 
took  it ;  then,  as  the  rider  went  on  with  a  parting  angry 
glance,  he  muttered  sulkily  :  *  Who  dat  man  dat  you  gib  de 
whip  to  ?  An'  what  for  you  want  to  gib  it  him  dere,  Peter  ? ' 

The  younger  man  answered  apologetically :  *  Dat  Mr. 
Noel,  buckra  from  Englan' ;  him  come  to  stop  at  Orange 
Grove  along  ob  de  massa.' 

'  Buckra  from  Englan'  1 '  Louis  Delgado  cried  incredu- 
lously. 'Him  doan't  no  buckra  from  Englan',  I  teilin' 
you,  me  brudder ;;  him  Trinidad  brown  man  as  sure  as  de 
gospel.  You  doan't  see  him  is  brown  man,  Peter,  de 
minnet  you  look  at  him  ?  ' 

Peter  shook  his  head  and  grinned  solemnly.  'No, 
Mistah  Delgado,  him  doan't  no  brown  man,'  he  answered, 
iaughing.  *  Him  is  dark  for  true,  but  still  him  real  buckra. 
Him  stoppin'  up  n.t  house  along  ob  de  massa  I ' 

Delgado  turned  to  his  work  once  more,  doggedly^    *  If 


m  ALL  8BADB8 


189 


him  buckra,  an'  if  him  stoppia'  up  wit  dem  cursed  Dapuy,* 
he  said  half  aloud,  but  so  ubat  the  wondering  Peter  could 
easi'V  overhear  it,  *  when  de  great  an'  terrible  day  ob  de 
Lard  come,  he  will  be  cut  off  wit  all  de  household,  as  de 
Lard  spake  in  de  times  ob  old  by  de  mout  of  him  holy 
prophet.  An'  de  day  ob  de  Lard  doan't  gwine  to  be  delayed 
long  now,  neider.'  A  mumbled  Arabic  sentence,  which 
Peter  of  course  could  not  understand,  gave  point  and  terror 
to  this  last  horribly  mouthed  prediction.  Peter  turned 
away,  thinking  to  himself  that  Louis  Delgado  was  a  terribl* 
obeah  man  and  sorcerer  for  certain,  and  that  whoever 
crossed  his  path  had  better  think  twice  before  he  offended 
80  powerful  an  antagonist. 

Meanwhile,  Harry  Noel  was  still  riding  on  to  Orange 
Grove.  As  he  reached  the  garden  gate,  Tom  Dupuy  met 
him,  out  for  a  walk  in  the  cool  of  the  evening  with  big  Slot, 
his  great  Cuban  bloodhound.  As  Harry  drew  near,  Slot 
burst  away  suddenly  with  a  leap  from  his  master,  and  before 
Harry  could  foresee  what  was  going  to  happen,  the  huge 
brute  had  sprung  up  at  him  fiercely,  and  was  attacking  him 
with  his  mighty  teeth  and  paws,  as  though  about  to  drag 
him  from  his  seat  fdrcibly  with  his  slobbering;  canines. 
Harry  hit  out  at  the  beast  a  vicious  blow  from  the  butt- 
end  of  his  riding-whip,  and  at  the  same  moment  Tom 
Dupuy,  sauntering  up  somewhat  more  lazily  than  politeness 
or  even  common  humanity  perhaps  demanded,  caught  the 
dog  steadilv  by  the  neck  and  held  him  back  by  main  force, 
still  struggling  vehemently  and  pulling  at  the  collar.  His 
great  slobbering  jaws  opened  hungrily  towards  the  angry 
EngUshman,  and  his  eyes  gleamed  with  the  fierce  light  of 
a  starving  carnivore  in  sight  and  smeU  of  his  retural  prey. 

'  Precious  vicious  dog  you  keep,  Mr.  Dupuy/  Haxry  ex- 
claimed, not  ovor-good-humouredly,  for  the  bmte  had 
made  its  teeth  meet  through  the  flap  of  his  coat  lappets : 
*you  oughtn't  to  let  him  go  at  large,  I  fancv.' 

Tom  Dupuy  stooped  and  patted  his  huge  fiayourito 
lovingly  on  tne  head  with  lifitle  hypocritical  show  of 
penitence  or  apology.  'He  don't  often  go  off  this  wav,' 
he  answered  oooUy.  'He's  a  Onban  bloodhound,  Slot 
ii;  pure-blooded — the  name  kind  we  naed  to  train  in 


I 


13 


m 


IN  ALL  SBADSa 


1 1 


liie  good  old  days  to  hunt  up  the  runaway  niggers ;  and 
they  often  go  at  a  black  man  or  a  brown  man — that's  what 
they're  meant  for.  The  moment  they  smell  African  blood, 
they're  after  it  like  a  greyhound  after  a  hare,  as  quick 
as  lightning.  But  I  never  knew  Slot  before  go  for  a 
white  manl  It's  very  singular — excessively  singular.  I 
never  before  knew  him  go  for  a  real  white  man.' 

*  If  he  was  my  dog,'  Harry  Noel  answered,  walking  his 
pony  up  to  the  door  with  a  sharp  look-out  on  the  ugly 
mouth  of  the  straining  and  quiverin  t  bloodhound,  *  he'd 
never  have  the  chance  again,  I  cak  tell  you,  to  go  for 
another.  The  brute's  most  dangerous — a  most  blood- 
thirsty creature.  And,  indeed,  I'm  not  sontimental  myself 
on  the  matter  of  niggers ;  but  I  don't  know  that  in  a 
country  where  there  are  so  many  niggers  knocking  about 
casually  everywhere,  any  man  has  got  a  right  to  keep  a 
dog  that  darts  straight  at  them  as  a  greyhound  darts  at  a 
hare,  according  to  your  very  own  confession.  It  doesn't 
seem  to  me  exactly  right  or  proper  somehow.* 

Tom  Dupuy  glanced  carlesssly  at  the  struggling  brute, 
and  answered  with  a  coarse  laugh  :  *  I  see,  Mr.  Noel,  you've 
been  taking  counsel  already  with  your  friend  Hawthorn. 
Well,  welly  in  my  opinion,  I  expect  there's  just  about  a  pair 
otyoal' 


CHAPTER  XXVn. 

In  spite  of  his  vigorous  dislike  for  Tom  Dupuy,  Harry  Noel 
continued  to  stop  on  at  Orange  Grove  for  some  weeks  to- 
gether, retained  there  irresistibly  by  the  potent  spell  of 
Nora's  presence.  He  could  not  tear  himself  away  irom 
Nora.  And  Nora,  too,  though  she  could  never  conquer  her 
instinctive  prejudice  against  the  dark  young  Englishman — 
a  prejudice  that  seemed  to  be  almost  ingrained  in  her  very 
nature— couldn't  help  feeling  on  her  side,  also,  that  it  was 
very  pleasant  to  have  Harry  Noel  stopping  in  the  house 
with  her ;  he  was  such  a  relief  and  change  after  Tom 
Dupuy  and  the  other  sugar-growing  young  gentlemen  of 
Trinidad.    He  had  some  other  ideas  in  his  head  beside 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


m 


vacuum  pa'is  and  saccliarometers  and  centrifugals;  lie 
could  talk  about  something  else  besides  the  crop  and  the 
cutting  and  the  boiling.  Harry  was  careful  not  to  recur 
for  the  present  to  the  subject  of  their  last  conversation  at 
Southampton ;  he  left  that  important  issue  aside  for  a 
while,  till  Nora  had  time  to  make  his  acquaintance  for  her- 
self afresh.  A  year  had  passed  since  she  came  to  Trinidad  ; 
she  might  have  changed  her  mind  meanwhile.  At  nine- 
teen or  twenty,  one's  views  often  undergo  a  rapid  expan- 
sion. In  any  case,  it  would  be  best  to  let  her  have  a  little 
time  to  get  to  know  him  better.  In  his  own  heart,  Harry 
Noel  had  inkUngs  of  a  certain  not  wholly  unbecoming  con- 
sciousness that  he  cut  a  very  decent  figure  indeed  in  Nora's 
eyes,  by  the  side  of  the  awkward,  sugar-growing  young  men 
of  Trinidad. 

One  afternoon,  a  week  or  two  later,  he  was  out  riding 
among  the  plains  with  Nora,  attended  behind  by  the  negro 
groom,  when  they  happened  to  pass  the  same  comer  where 
he  had  already  met  Louie  Delgado.  The  old  man  was  stand- 
ing there  again,  cutlass  in  hand — the  cutlass  is  the  common 
agricultural  implement  and  rural  jack-of-all- trades  of  the 
West  Indies,  answering  to  plough,  harrow,  hoe,  spade, 
reaping-hook,  rake,  and  pruning-knifo  in  England — and  as 
Nora  passed  he  dropped  her  a  grudging,  half-satirical  salu- 
tation, something  between  a  bow  a'  d  a  courtesy,  as  is  the 
primitive  custom  of  the  country. 

*  A  very  murderous-looking  weapon,  the  thing  that 
fellow's  got  in  his  hand,'  Harry  Noel  said,  in  passing,  to 
his  pretty  companion  as  they  turned  the  comer.  *  What 
on  earth  does  ho  want  to  do  with  it,  I  wonder  ? ' 

'  Oh,  that  I '  Nora  exclaimed  carelessly,  glancing  back  in 
an  unconcerned  fashion.  *  That's  only  a  cutlass.  All  our 
people  work  with  cutlasses,  you  know.  He's  merely  going 
to  hoe  up  the  canes  with  it.' 

'  Nasty  things  for  the  niggers  to  have  in  their  hands,  in 
case  there  should  ever  be  any  row  in  the  island,'  Harry  mur- 
mured half  aloud ;  for  the  sight  of  the  wild-looking  old  man 
ran  strangely  in  his  head,  and  he  couldn't  help  thinking  to 
himself  how  much  damage  could  easily  be  done  by  a  sturdy 
negro  with  one  of  those  rude  and  formidable  weapons. 


1S2 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


*  Yes,*  Nora  answered  with  a  ohildisb  laugh,  '  those  9X% 
just  what  they  always  hack  us  to  pieces  with,  you  know, 
whenever  there  comes  a  negro  rising.  Mr.  Hawthorn  says 
there's  very  likely  to  be  one  soon.  He  thinks  the  negroes 
are  ripe  for  rebellion.  He  knows  more  about  them  than 
any  one  else,  you  see  ;  and  he's  thoroughly  in  the  confidence 
of  a  great  many  of  them,  and  he  says  they're  almost  all 
fearfully  disaifected.  That  old  man  Delgado  there,  in  par- 
ticular— he's  a  shocking  old  man  altogether.  He  hates 
papa  and  Tom  Dupuy ;  and  I  believe  if  ever  he  got  the 
chance,  he'd  cut  every  one  of  our  throats  in  cold  blood  as 
soon  as  look  at  us.' 

'I  hope  to  Heaven  he  won't  get  the  chance,  then,' 
Harry  ejaculated  earnestly.  '  He  seems  a  most  uncivil, 
ill-conditioned,  independent  sort  of  a  fellow  altogether. 
I  dropped  my  whip  on  the  road  by  chance  the  very  first 
afternoon  I  came  here,  and  I  asked  this  same  man  to  pick 
it  up  for  me ;  and,  would  you  believe  it  ?  the  old  wretch 
wouldn't  stoop  to  hand  the  thing  to  me ;  he  told  me  I 
might  just  jump  off  my  horse  and  pick  it  up  for  myself,  if 
I  wanted  to  get  it !  Now,  you  know,  a  labourer  in  England, 
though  he's  a  white  man  like  one's  self,  would  never  have 
dared  to  answer  me  that  way.  He'd  have  stooped  down 
and  picked  it  up  instinctively,  the  moment  he  was  asked  to 
by  any  gentleman.' 

'  Mr.  Hawthorn  says,'  Nora  answered,  smiling,  *  that 
our  negroes  here  are  a  great  deal  more  independent,  and 
have  a  great  deal  more  sense  of  freedom  than  English 
country  people,  because  they  were  emancipated  straight  off 
all  in  one  day,  and  were  told  at  once :  *'  Now,  from  this 
time  forth  you're  every  bit  as  free  as  your  masters;" 
whereas  the  English  peasants,  he  says,  were  never  regularly 
emancipated  at  all,  but  only  slowly  and  unconsciously  came 
uut  of  serfdom,  so  that  there  never  was  any  one  day  when 
they  felt  to  themselves  that  they  had  become  freemen. 
I'm  not  quite  sure  whet^ier  that's  exactly  how  he  puts  it, 
but  I  think  it  is.  Anyhow,  I  know  it's  a  fact  that  all  one's 
negro  women-oervants  out  here  are  a  great  deal  more 
independent  and  saucy  than  the  white  maids  used  to  be 
over  in  England.' 


m  ALL  STTADBS 


that 


'Zhdependence/  Harry  remarked,  JsracTving  his  short 
whip  Viith  a  shanp  snap, '  is  a  very  noble  quality,  considered 
fai  me  abstract ;  bnt  when  it  comes  to  taking  it  in  the  con* 
erete,  I  should  much  prefer  for  my  part  not  to  have  it  in 
my  own  servants.' 

(A  sentiment,  it  may  be  observed  in  passing,  by  no 
means  micommon,  even  when  not  expressed,  among  people 
who  make  far  more  pretensions  to  democratic  feeUng  than 
did  Hany  Noel.) 

Louis  Delgado,  standing  behind,  and  gazing  with  a 
malevolent  gleam  in  his  cold  dark  eyes  ai'tor  the  retreating 
bnckra  figures,  beckoned  in  silence  with  his  skinny  hand 
to  the  black  groom,  who  came  back  immediately  and 
imhesitatingly,  as  if  in  prompt  obedience  to  some  superior 
officer. 

'  Yoa  if  number  forty-tree,  I  tink,'  the  old  man  said, 
looking  at  the  groom  closely.  *  Yes,  yes,  dat's  your  number. 
Tell  me ;  you  Know  who  is  dis  buckra  from  Englan'  ?  ' 

*  Dem  callin'  him  Mistah  Noel,  sah,'  the  black  groum 
•DBwered,  touching  the  brim  of  his  hat  respectfully. 

'Yes,  yes,  I  biow  him  name;  I  know  dat  already/ 
Delgado  answered  with  an  impatient  gesture.  '  But  what 
I  want  to  know  is  jest  dis— can  you  find  out  for  me  from 
de  house-serbants,  or  anybody  up  at  Orange  Grove,  where 
him  fader  an'  mndder  oome  from  9  I  want  to  know  all 
about  him.' 

'  Missy  Bosina  find  dat  out  for  me,'  the  groom  answered, 
grinning  broadly.  'Missy  Bosina  is  de  young  le-ady's 
waiting-maid ;  an'  de  young  le-ady,  him  tell  Bosina  pretty 
well  eberyting.  Bosina,  she  is  Isaac  Pourtal^s'  new  sweet- 
heart.' 

Delgado  nodded  in  instantaneous  acquiescence.  *  All 
right,  number  forty-tree,'  he  answered,  cutting  him  short 
earelessly.  '  Bide  after  buckra,  an'  say  no  more  about  it. 
I  get  it  all  out  ob  him  now,  surely.  I  know  Missy  Bosina 
well,  for  true.  I  gib  him  de  lub  of  Isaac  Pourtal^s  wit  me 
obeah,  I  tellin'  you.  Send  Missy  Bosina  to  me  dis  eb<min'. 
I  hai  plentj  ting  I  want  to  talk  about  wit  hei.' 


I'. 


■  M!^ 


\--\. 


•tii 


I 


tat     . 


tM 


Of  ALL  BBADBB 


CHAPTER  XXVm. 


II 


That  evening,  Rosina  rkunny  went  as  she  was  bid  to  the 
old  African's  tent  about  half-past  eleven,  groping  her  way 
along  the  black  moonless  roads  in  fear  and  trembling,  with 
infinite  terror  of  the  all-pervading  and  utterly  ghastly  West 
Indian  ghosts  or  duppies.  It  was  a  fearful  thing  to  go  at 
that  time  of  night  to  the  hut  of  an  obeah  man ;  Heaven 
knows  what  grinning,  gibbering  ghouls  and  phantoms  one 
might  chance  to  come  across  in  such  a  place  at  such  an 
hour.  But  it  would  have  been  more  fearfal  still  to  stop 
away ;  for  Delgado,  who  could  so  easily  bring  her  Isaac 
Pourtal^s  for  a  lover  by  his  powerful  spells,  could  just  as 
easily  burn  her  to  powder  with  his  thunder  and  Hghtning, 
or  send  the  awful  duppies  to  torment  her  in  her  bed,  as  she 
lay  awake  trembling  through  the  night-watches.  So  poor 
Rosina  groped  her  way  fearfully  round  to  Delgado's  hut 
with  wild  misgivings,  and  lifted  the  latch  with  quivering 
fingers,  when  she  heard  its  owner's  gruff  '  Gome  in  den, 
missy,'  echoing  grimly  from  the  inner  recesses. 

When  she  opened  the  door,  however,  she  was  somewhat 
relieved  to  find  within  a  paraffin  lamp  burning  brightly ; 
and  in  the  place  of  ghouls  or  ghosts  or  duppies,  Isaao 
PourtaWs  himself,  jauntily  seated  smoking  a  fresh  tobacco- 
leaf  cigarette  of  his  own  manufacture,  in  the  comer  of  the 
hut  where  Lv^oiB  Delgado  was  sitting  cross-legged  on  the 
mud  floor, 

•Ebenin',  missy,*  Delgado  said,  rising  with  African 
politeness  to  greet  her ;  while  the  brown  Barbadian,  witliout 
moving  from  his  seat,  allowed  his  lady-love  to  stoop  down 
of  herself  to  kiss  him  affectionately.  *  I  send  for  you  dis 
ebenin'  becase  we  want  to  know  suffin'  about  dis  pusson 
dat  callin'  himself  buckra,  an'  stoppin'  now  at  Orange  Grobe 
wit  ^ou.  What  you  know  about  him,  tell  us  dat,  misi^. 
You  is  Missy  Dupuy  own  serbin'-le-ady :  him  gwine  to  tell 
you  all  him  secret.  What  you  know  about  dig  pusson 
Noe!?' 


XN  ALL  BBADES 


191 


Thas  adjured,  Bosina  Fleming,  Bitting  down  awkwardljr 
OQ  the  side  of  the  rude  wooden  settee,  and  with  her  big 
white  eyes  fixed  abstractedly  upon  the  grinning  skull  that 
decorated  the  bare  mud  wall  just  opposite  her,  pulled  her 
turban  straight  upon  her  woolly  locks  with  coquettish  pre- 
cision, and  sticking  one  finger  up  to  her  mouth  like  a 
country  child,  be;,  an  to  pour  forth  all  she  could  remember 
of  the  Orange  Grove  servants'  gossip  about  Harry  Noeh 
Dolgado  hsteued  impatiently  to  the  long  recital  without  ever 
for  a  moment  tryiig  to  interrupt  her ;  for  long  experience 
had  taught  him  the  lesson  that  little  was  to  be  got  out  of 
his  fellow-countrywomen  by  deliberate  cross-questioning, 
but  a  great  deal  by  allowing  them  quietly  to  tell  their 
own  stories  at  full  length  in  their  own  rambhng,  childish 
fashion. 

At  last,  when  Rosina,  with  eyes  kept  always  timidly 
askance,  half  the  time  upon  the  frightful  skuil,  and  half 
the  time  on  Isaac  Pourtaleis,  had  f;drly  come  to  the  end  of 
her  tether,  the  old  African  ventured,  with  tentative  cunning, 
to  put  a  leading  question :  '  You  ebber  hear  dem  say  at  de 
table,  missy,  who  him  mudder  and  fader  is,  and  where  dem 
come  from  ? ' 

•  Him  fader  is  very  great  gentleman  ober  in  Englan',* 
Eosina  answered  confidently — *  very  grand  gentleman,  wit 
house  an'  serbant,  an'  coach  an'  horses,  an'  plenty  cane- 
piece,  an'  rum  an'  sugar,  an'  yam  garden  an'  plantain, 
becase  I  'member  Aunt  Clernmy  say  so ;  an'  de  missy  him 
say  80  himself  too,  sah.  An'  de  missy  say  dat  de  pusson 
dat  marry  him  will  be  real  le-ady — same  like  de  gubbemor 
le-ady ;  real  le-ady,  like  dem  hab  in  Englan'.  De  missy 
tellin'  me  all  about  him  dis  berry  ebenin'. 

Delgado  smiled.  •  Den  de  missy  in  lub  wit  him  him 
self,  for  certain,'  he  answered  with  true  African  shrewdness 
and  cynicism.  •  Ole-time  folk  has  proverb,  •*  When  naygur 
woman  say,  *  Dat  fowl  fat,'  him  gwine  to  steal  him  same 
ebenin'  for  him  pickany  dinner."  An'  when  le-ady  tell 
you  what  happen  to  gal  dat  mnrry  gentleman,  him  want 
to  hab  de  gentleman  himself  tor  him  own  husband.' 

*  Oh  no,  sail ;  dat  doan't  bo,  i^osiua  cried  with  sudden 
«nergj.    '  De  missy  doan't  lubbiu'  de  buckra  gentleman 


« 


r 


'jii 


i 


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S§:|i 


Q 


19« 


JN  ALL  SHADES 


1;  fi 


at  all.    Bhe  tell  me  him  look  altogedder  too  mnoh  like 
■aygur.' 

Delgado  and  Pourtalds  exchanged  meaning  looks  ^dth 
one  another,  but  neither  of  them  answered  a  word  to 
Bosina. 

*  An'  him  mudder  ? '  Delgado  inquired  curiously  after 
a  moment's  pause,  taking  a  lazy  puff  at  a  cigarette  which 
Isaac  handed  him. 

*  Him  mudder  I '  Bosina  said.  '  Ah,  dere  now,  I  for- 
gettin'  clean  what  Uncle  'Zekiel,  him  what  is  butler  up  to 
de  house  dar,  an'  hear  dem  talk  wit  one  anodder  at  dinner 
— I  forgettin'  clean  what  it  was  him  tell  me  about  him 
mudder.' 

Delgado  did  not  urge  her  iu  rack  her  feeble  little 
memory  on  this  important  question,  but  waited  silently, 
with  consummate  prudence,  till  she  should  think  of  it  her- 
self and  come  out  with  it  spontaneously. 

'  Ha,  dere  now,'  liosina  cried  at  last,  after  a  minute  or 
two  of  vacant  and  steady  staring  at  the  orbless  eyeholes  of 
the  skull  opposite ;  *  I  is  too  chupid — too  chupid  altogedder. 
Mistah  'Zekiel,  him  tellin'  me  de  odder  mamin  dat  Mista  i 
Noel's  mudder  is  le-ady  from  Barbadoes. — Dat  whar  yoa 
oome  from  yourself,  Isaac,  me  fren*.  You  must  oe  mem- 
berin'  de  family  ober  in  Barbadoes.' 

'  How  dem  call  de  family  ?  *  Isaac  asked  cautiouslv 
*  You  ebber  hear,  Bosie,  how  dem  call  de  family  ?    Tell 
me,  dar  is  good  girl,  an'  I  gwine  to  lub  you  better'n 
ebbor.' 

Bosina  hesitated,  and  cudgelled  her  poor  brains  eagerly 
a  few  minutes  longer;  then  another  happy  flash  of  re- 
collection came  across  her  suddenly  like  an  inspiration, 
and  she  cried  out  in  a  joyous  tone  :  *  Yes,  yes :  I  got  him 
now,  I  got  him  now,  Isaac !  Him  mudder  family,  deir  name 
is  Budleigh,  an*  dem  lib  at  place  dem  call  de  Wilderness. 
Mistah  'Zekiel  tell  me  all  about  dem.  HLm  say  dai  dis 
le-ady,  what  him  name  Missy  Budleigh,  marry  de  buokra 
gentleman  fader,  what  him  name  Sir-waltah  Noel/ 

It  was  an  enormous  and  unprecedented  fetch  of  memory 
for  a  pure-blooded  black  woman,  nnd  Bosina  Fleming  was 
JuaUy  ^roud  of  it.    bhe  stood  there  grinning  and  smiling 


IN  ALL  aHADEB 


m 


was 


from  car  to  ear,  so  that  even  the  skull  npon  the  wall 
opposite  was  simply  nowhere  in  the  competition. 

Delgodo  tamed  breathlessly  to  Isaac  Pourtalds.  *  Yon 
know  dis  fam'ly?'  he  asked  with  eager  anticipation. 
'  Yon  ebber  hear  ob  dem  ?  You  lam  at  all  whedder  dem 
ii  buckra  or  only  brown  people  ? ' 

Isaac  PourtaUs  laughed  hoarsely.  Brown  man  as  he 
was  himself,  he  chuckled  and  hugged  himself  with  sardonic 
delight  over  the  anticipated  humiliation  of  a  fellow  brown 
man  who  thought  himself  a  genuine  buckra.  '  Know  dem, 
sah  1 '  he  cried  in  a  perfect  ecstasy  of  malicious  humour — 
'  know  de  Budleighs  ob  de  Wilderness  I  I  tiiik  for  true  I 
know  dem  t  HA  /  Mistah  Delgado,  me  fren',  I  tellin'  you 
de  trat,  sah;  me  own  mudder  an'  Mrs.  Budleigh  ob  de 
WildemesB  is  first  cousin,  first  cousin  to  one  anudder.' 

It  was  perfectly  true.  Strange  as  such  a  relationship 
sounds  to  English  ears,  in  the  West  Indies  cases  of  the 
sort  are  as  common  as  earthquakes.  In  many  a  cultivated 
light-brown  family,  where  the  young  ladies  of  the  house- 
hold, pretty  and  well  educated,  expect  and  hope  to  marry 
an  English  officer  of  good  connections,  the  visitor  knows 
that,  in  some  small  room  or  other  of  the  back  premises, 
there  still  lingers  on  feebly  an  old  black  hag,  wrinkled  and 
toothlcRt),  full  of  strange  oaths  and  incon.prehensible 
African  jargons,  who  is  nevertheless  the  grandmother  of 
the  proud  and  handsome  girls,  busy  over  JMondelssohn's 
sonatas  and  the  '  Saturday  Beview,'  m  the  front  drawing- 
room.  Into  such  a  family  it  was  that  Sir  Walter  Noel, 
head  of  the  great  Lincolnshire  house,  had  actually  married. 
The  Budleighs  of  the  Wilderness  had  migrated  to  England 
before  the  abolition  of  slavery,  when  the  future  Lady  Noel 
was  still  a  baby ;  and  getting  easily  into  good  society  in 
Lonrlon,  had  only  been  known  as  West  Indian  proprietors 
in  those  old  days  when  to  be  a  West  Indian  proprietor  was 
still  equivalent  to  wealth  and  prosperity,  not,  as  now,  to 
poverty  and  bankruptcy. 

Strange  to  say,  too.  Lady  Noel  herself  was  not  by  any 
means  so  dark  as  her  son  Harry.  The  Lincolnshire  Noels 
belonged  themselves  to  the  black-haired  type  so  common 
in  their  county  ;  and  the  union  of  the  two  stoains  had  pro* 


), 
1*^^ 


IN  ALL  SEADBB 


duced  in  Han^  a  complexion  several  degrees  more  iiwarthf 
than  that  of  ei^.her  of  his  handsome  parents.  In  England, 
nobody  would  ever  have  noticed  uiis  little  peculiarity; 
they  merely  said  that  Harry  was  the  vc^r  imago  of  the  old 
Noel  family  portraits ;  but  in  Trinidad,  where  the  abidifjg 
traces  of  negro  blood  are  so  familiarly  known  and  so  care- 
fully  looked  for,  it  was  almost  impossible  for  him  to  pass  a 
single  dajr  without  his  partially  black  descent  being 
immediately  suspected.  He  had  '  thrown  back,'  as  the 
colonists  coarsely  phrr.f^e  it,  to  the  dusky  complexion  of 
his  quadroon  ancestors. 

Louis  Delgado  hugged  himself  and  grinned  at  thfs 
glorious  discovery.  '  Ha,  ha  I '  he  cried,  rockinp;  himseU 
rapidly  to  and  fro  in  a  perfect  frenzy  of  gratified  vindictive- 
ness  ;  '  him  doan't  buckra,  den ! — him  doan't  buokra  1  He 
hold  himself  so  proud,  an'  look  down  on  naygur ;  an'  after 
all,  him  doan't  buckra,  him  onl^  brown  manl  De  L^vd 
be  praise,  I  gwine  to  humble  him  I  I  gwine  to  let  him 
know  him  doan't  buckra  I ' 

'  Yon  will  tell  him  ? '  Hosina  Fleming  asked  curiously. 

Delgado  danced  about  the  hut  in  a  wild  ecstasy,  with 
his  fingers  snapping  about  in  every  direction,  like  the  half- 
tamed  African  savage  that  he  really  was.  '  Tell  him, 
Missy  Rosie  I '  he  echoed  contemptuously — *  tell  fcwn,  you 
sayin'  to  me  1  Yah,  yah  I  you  hab  no  sense,  missy.  I 
doan't  gwine  to  tell  him,  for  certain ;  I  gwine  to  tell  dat 
ehe^^tin'  scoundrel,  Tom  Dupny,  missy,  so  humble  him  in 
de  end  de  wues  for  all  dat.' 

Bosina  gazed  at  him  in  puzzled  bewilderment.  '  Tom 
Dupuy  I '  she  repeated  slowly.  *  You  gwine  to  tell  Tom 
Dupuy,  you  say,  Mistah  Delgado?  What  de  debbel  de 
use,  I  wonder,  sah,  ob  tell  Tom  Dupuy  dat  de  buckra 
gentleman  an'  Isaac  is  own  cousin? ' 

Delgado  executed  another  frantic  pas  de  iettl  across  the 
floor  of  the  hut,  to  work  off  his  mad  excitement^  and  then 
answered  gleefully :  '  Ha,  ha.  Missy  Bosie,  you  is  woman, 
you  is  Creole  naygur  gal — you  doan't  understand  de  depth 
an'  de  wisdom  od  African  na^rar.  Look  yon  here,  me 
fren',  I  explain  yon  all  about  /«.  De  missy  op  at  house, 
him  fall  in  lub  wid  dis  liu«m  man,  NoeL    Tom  Dupuy, 


IK  ALL  ^ITADES 


199 


him  want  for  go  an'  marry  de  missy.  Dat  make  Tom  Dnpuy 
hate  de  brown  man.  I  tell  him,  Noel  doan't  no  buckra — 
him  common  brown  man,  own  cousin  to  Isaac  Pourtal^s. 
Den  Tom  Dupuy  laugh  at  Noel  I  Ea,  ha !  I  turn  de  hand 
ob  one  proud  buckra  to  bring  down  de  pricle  ob  de  odder  1 ' 
^  lasa/,  Pourtal^s  laughed  too.  *  Ha,  ha  I '  he  cried, 
*  him  is  prond  buckra,  an'  him  is  me  own  cousin  I  Ha,  ha, 
I  hate  him  I  When  de  great  an'  terrible  day  ob  de  Lard 
come,  I  gwine  to  hack  him  into  httle  bit,  same  hkc  one 
hack  de  pinguin  in  de  hedge  when  we  breakin'  fence  do^Yn 
to  grab  up  de  boundaries  I ' 

Bosina  gazed  at  her  mulatto  lover  in  rueful  silence. 
She  liked  the  English  stranger — he  had  given  her  a  shilling 
one  day  to  post  a  letter  for  him— but  still,  she  daren't  go 
back  upon  Isaac  and  Louis  Delgado.  *  Him  is  fren'  ob 
Mistah  Hawtom,'  she  murmured  apologetically  at  last  after 
a  minute's  severe  reflection — •  great  fren'  ob  ]\Iistab  Haw- 
tom, Dem  is  old-time  fren*  in  Englan'  togedder;  and 
when  Mistah  Tom  Dupuy  speak  bad  'bout  I^Iistah  Hawtorn, 
Mistah  Noel  him  flare  up  hke  angry  naygur,  an'  him  gib 
him  de  lie,  an'  him  speak  out  well  for  him  1  * 

Dolgado  checked  himself,  and  looked  closely  at  the 
hesitating  Degress  with  more  deliberation.  *  Him  is  fron' 
ob  Misttm  Hawtom,'  he  said  in  a  meditative  voice — *  him 
is  fren*  ob  Mistah  Hawtorn !  De  fren'  ob  de  Jjaid's  fren' 
shall  come  to  no  harm  when  de  great  an'  terrible  day  ob  de 
Lard  comin'.  I  gwine  to  tell  Tom  Dupuy.  I  must  humble 
de  buckra.  But  in  de  great  an'  terrible  day,  dem  shall  not 
hurt  a  hair  of  him  head,  if  de  Lard  wills  it.'  And  then  he 
added  somewhat  louder,  in  his  own  sonorous  and  mystic 
Arabic:  *The  effendi's  brother  is  dear  to  Allah  even  as 
the  good  effendi  himself  is.' 

Isaac  Pourtal^s  made  a  wry  face  aside  to  himself. 
Evidently  he  had  settled  in  his  own  mind  that  whatever 
might  be  Delgado's  private  opinion  about  the  friends  of  the 
Lord's  firiend,  he  himself  was  not  going  to  be  bound,  when 
the  moment  for  action  actually  arrived,  by  anybody  else's 
ideas  or  promises. 

By-and-by,  Rosina  rose  to  go.  •  You  is  comin'  wit  me, 
Isaac  ? '  she  asked  coquettishly,  with  hor  finger  stuck  once 


I 


I 


i 


i! 


206 


m  ALL  SBADBS 


mere  in  coy  reserve  at  the  comer  of  her  month,  and  her 
head  a  little  on  one  side,  bewitching  negress  fashion. 

Isaac  hesitated ;  it  does  not  do  for  a  brown  man  to  be 
too  condescending  and  famihar  with  a  nigger  girl,  even  if 
she  does  happen  to  be  his  sweetheart.  Besides,  Delgado 
signed  to  him  with  his  withered  finger  that  he  wanted  him 
io  stop  a  few  minutes  longer.  'No,  Missy  Bosie,'  the 
mulatto  answered,  yawning  quietly ;  '  I  doan't  gwine  yet. 
You  know  de  road  to  house,  1  tink.    Ebenin',  le-ady.' 

Bosina  gave  a  sighing,  sideloiig  look  of  disappointed 
affection,  took  her  lover's  hand  a  little  coldly  in  her  own 
black  fingers,  and  sidled  out  of  the  hut  with  much  reluc- 
tance, half  frightened  still  at  the  horrid  prospect  of  once 
more  facing  alone  the  irrepressible  and  ubiquitous  duppies. 

As  soon  as  she  was  fairly  out  of  earshot,  Louis  Delgado 
approached  at  once  close  to  the  mulatto's  ear  and  murmured 
in  a  mysterious  hollow  undertone :  *  Next  Wednesday  I  * 

The  mulatto  started.  '  So  soon  as  dat  1 '  he  cried. 
•  Den  you  has  got  de  pistols  ?  * 

Delgado,  with  his  wrinkled  finger  placed  upon  his  lip, 
moved  stealthily  to  a  corner  of  his  hut,  and  slowly  opened 
a  chest,  occupied  on  the  top  by  his  mouldy  obeah  mummery 
of  loose  alligators'  teeth  and  well -cleaned  httle  human 
knuckle-bones.  Carefully  removing  this  superstitious 
rubbish  from  the  top  of  the  box  with  an  undisguised 
sneer — for  Isaac  as  a  brown  man  was  ex  officio  superior  to 
obeah — he  took  from  beneath  it  a  couple  of  dozen  old  navy 
pistols,  of  a  disused  pattern,  bought  cheap  from  a  marine 
store-dealer  of  doubtful  honesty  down  at  the  harbour. 
Isaac's  eyes  gleamed  brightly  as  soon  as  he  saw  the  goodly 
array  of  real  firearms.  •  Hi^  h&  t*  he  cried  joyously, 
fingering  the  triggers  with  a  loving  touch,  '  dat  de  ting  to 
bring  down  de  pride  ob  de  proud  buckra.  Ha,  ha  I  Next 
Wednesday,  next  Wednesday  I  We  waited  long,  Mistah 
Delg-do,  for  de  Lard's  delibberance ;  but  de  time  come  now, 
de  time  come  at  last,  sah,  an'  we  gwine  to  hab  de  island 
ob  Trinidad  all  to  ourselves  for  de  Lard's  inheritance.' 

The  old  African  bowed  majestically.  *  Slay  ebbery 
male  among  dem,*  he  answered  aloud  in  his  deepest  accents, 
with  %  not  wholly  nxumpressiye  mouthing  of  his  hollow 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


20i 


vowels — •  slay  eljbery  male,  sait*  de  Lard  by  de  moat*  ob 
de  holy  propbet,  an'  take  de  women  captive,  an'  de  maidens, 
an'  de  little  ones ;  an'  divide  among  you  de  spoil  ob  all 
deir  cattle,  an'  all  deir  fiiocks,  an'  all  deir  goods,  an'  deir 
cities  wberein  dey  dwell,  and  all  deir  vineyards,  an'  deir 
goodly  castles.' 

Isaac  Pourtalds'  eyes  gleamed  hideously  as  he  listened 
in  delight  to  that  awful  quotation  from  the  Book  of 
Numbers.  *  Ha,  ha,'  he  cried, ' "  take  de  women  captive  I "  ' 
De  Lard  say  dat?  De  Lard  say  dat,  now?  Ha,  ha, 
Mistah  Delgadol  dat  is  good  prophecy,  dat  is  fine  pro- 
phecy ;  da  prophet  say  well,  "  Take  de  women  captiTO." 


11 


i  '  I 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Delgaso  had  fixed  the  great  and  terrible  day  of  the  Lord 
for  Wednesday  evening.  On  Monday  afternoon,  Harry  and 
Nora,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Dupuy,  went  for  a  ride  in  the 
cool  of  dusk  among  the  hills  togetlier.  Trinidad  that  day 
was  looking  its  very  best.  The  tall  and  feathery  bamboos 
tliat  overhung  the  serpentine  pathways  stood  out  in  exquisite 
clearness  of  outline,  like  Japanese  designs,  against  the  ten- 
der background  of  pearl-grey  sky.  The  treo-ferns  rose  lush 
and  green  among  the  bracken  after  yesterday's  brief  and 
refreshing  thunder-shower.  The  scarlet  hibiscus  trees 
beside  the  negro  huts  were  in  the  full  blush  of  their  first 
flowering  reason.  The poinsettias,  not, as  in  England,  mere 
stiflf  standard  plants  from  florists'  cuttings,  bvit  rising  proudly 
into  graceful  trees  of  free  and  rounded  growth,  with  long 
drooping  branches,  spread  all  about  their  great  rosettes  of 
crimson  leaflets  to  the  gorgeous  dying  sunlight.  The  broad 
green  foliage  of  the  ribbed  bananas  in  the  negro  gardens  put 
to  shame  the  flimsy  tropical  make-believes  of  Kew  or  Monte 
Carlo.  For  the  first  time,  it  seemed  to  Harry  Noel,  he  was 
riding  through  the  true  and  beautiful  tropics  of  poets  and 
painters;  and  the  reason  was  not  difficult  to  guess,  for  Nora 
—Nora  really  seemed  to  be  more  kindly  disposed  tc  him. 
After  all,  she  was  not  made  of  atone,  and  they  had  an  in- 


■  ii 


S09 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


terest  in  common  which  the  rest  of  the  house  of  Dupuy  did 
not  share  with  Nora  —the  interest  in  Edward  and  ^Marian 
Hawthorn.  You  can't  have  a  better  introduction  to  any 
girl's  heart — though  I  dare  say  it  may  be  very  wicked  indeed 
to  acknowledge  it — than  a  common  attachment  to  somebody 
or  something  tabooed  or  opposed  by  the  parental  authorities. 

Mr.  Dupuy  rode  first  in  the  little  single-file  calvacade, 
as  became  the  senior ;  and  Mr.  Dupuy's  cob  had  somehow 
u  strange  habit  of  keeping  fifty  yards  ahead  of  the  other 
horses,  which  gave  its  owner  on  this  particular  occasion  no 
little  trouble.  Harry  and  Nora  followed  behind  at  a  re- 
spectful distance;  and  Harry,  who  had  bought  a  new  horse 
of  his  own  the  day  before,  and  who  brought  up  the  rear  on 
his  fresh  mount,  seemed  curiously  undesirous  of  putting  his 
latest  purchase  through  its  paces,  as  one  might  naturally 
have  expected  him  to  do  uiider  the  circumstances.  On  the 
contrary,  he  hung  about  behind  most  unconscionably,  de- 
laying Nora  by  every  means  in  his  power ;  and  Mr.  Dupuy, 
looking  back  from  his  cob  every  now  and  again,  grew  almost 
weary  of  calling  out  a  dozen  times  over :  *  Now  then,  Nora, 
you  can  canter  up  over  this  little  bit  of  level,  and  oatoh  me 
up,  can't  you,  surely?  ' 

'  If  it  weren't  for  the  old  gentleman,'  Harry  thought  to 
himself  more  than  once,  '  I  really  think  I  (should  take  this 
opportunity  of  speaking  again  to  Nora ' — iie  always  called 
her  '  Nora  '  in  his  own  heart — a  well-known  symptom  of 
the  advanced  stages  of  the  disease — though  she  was  of 
course  *  Miss  Dupuy  *  alone  in  conversation.  *  Or  even  if 
we  wera  on  a  decent  Enghsh  road,  now,  where  you  can  ride 
two  abreast,  and  have  a  Ute-d-Ute  quite  as  comfortably  as 
in  an  ordinary  drawing-room  I  But  it's  clearly  impossible 
to  propose  to  a  girl  when  she's  riding  a  whole  horse's  length 
in  front  of  you  on  a  one-horse  pathway.  You  can't  shout 
out  to  her :  "  My  beloved,  I  adore  you,"  at  the  top  of  your 
voice,  as  they  do  at  the  opera,  especially  with  her  own 
father — presumably  devoted  to  the  rival  interest — hanging 
a  hundred  yards  ahead  within  moderate  earshot.'  So 
Harry  was  compelled  to  repress  for  the  present  his  ardent 
declaration,  and  continue  talking  to  Nora  Dupuy  about 
Edv.ard  and  Marian,  a  subject  which,  as  he  acutely  per- 


m  ALL  SHADES 


108 


eeired,  was  more  likely  to  bring  them  into  sympathy  with 
one  another  than  any  alternative  theme  he  could  possibly 
have  hit  upon. 

Presently,  they  descended  again  upon  the  plain,  and  Mr. 
Dnpny  was  jnst  about  to  rejoin  them  in  a  narrow  lane, 
almost  wide  enough  for  three  abreast,  and  bordered  by  a 
prickly  hedge  of  cactus  and  pingnin,  when,  to  Nora's  great 
surprise,  Tom  Dupuy,  on  nis  celebrated  chestnut  mare 
Sambo  Gal,  came  cantering  up  in  the  opposite  direction, 
as  if  on  purpose  to  catch  and  meet  them.  Tom  wasn't 
often  to  be  found  away  from  his  canes  at  that  time  of  day, 
and  Nora  had  very  httle  doubt  indeed  that  he  had  caught  a 
glimpse  of  Harry  and  herself  from  Pimento  Valley,  on  the 
zigzag  mountain  path,  without  noticing  her  father  on  in 
front  of  them,  and  had  ridden  out  with  the  express  inten- 
tion of  breaking  in  upon  their  supposed  Ute-d-Utc. 

Mr.  Dupuy  unconsciously  prevented  him  from  carrying 
out  this  natural  design.  Meeting  his  nephew  first  in  the 
narrow  pathway,  he  was  just  going  to  make  him  turn 
round  and  ride  alongside  with  him,  when  Nora,  seized  with 
a  sudden  fancy,  half  whispered  to  Harry  Noel :  '  I'm  not 
going  to  ride  with  Tom  Dupuy;  I  can't  endure  him;  I 
shall  turn  and  ride  back  in  the  opposite  direction.' 

•  We  mus*  tell  your  father,'  Harry  said,  hesitating, 

*  Of  course,'  Nora  answered  decidedly, — *  Papa,'  she 
continued,  raising  her  voice,  '  we're  going  to  ride  back 
again  and  round  by  Delgado's  hut,  you  Imow— the  moun- 
tain cabbage  palm-tree  way  is  so  mnch  prettier,  and  I 
want  to  show  it  to  Mr.  Noel.  You  and  Tom  Dupuy  can 
turn  round  and  follow  us. — The  cob  always  goes  ahead, 
you  see,  Mr.  Noel,  if  once  he's  allowed  to  get  in  front  of 
the  other  horses.' 

They  turned  back  once  more  in  this  reversed  order, 
Nora  and  Harry  Noel  leading  the  way,  and  Mr.  Dupuy, 
abreast  with  Tom,  following  behind  somewhat  angrily,  till 
they  came  to  a  point  in  the  narrow  lane  where  a  gap  in 
the  hedge  led  into  a  patch  of  jungle  on  the  right-hand  side. 
An  old  negro  had  crept  out  of  it  just  before  them,  carrying 
on  his  head,  poised  quite  evenly,  a  big  fagot  of  sticks  for 
his  outdoor  fireplace.    The  old  man  kept  the  middle  of 


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IN  ALL  STTADES 


the  lane,  jtist  in  front  of  tliem,  and  made  not  the  slightest 
movement  to  right  or  left,  as  if  he  had  no  particular  in- 
tention of  allowing  them  to  pass.  Harry  had  just  given 
his  new  horse  a  tap  with  the  whip,  and  they  were  trotting 
along  to  get  well  in  &ont  of  the  two  followers,  so  he  didn't 
greatly  relish  this  untoward  obstacle  thrown  so  iineX' 
pectedly  in  his  way.  *  Get  out  cf  the  road,  will  you,  you 
there  ? '  he  shouted  angrily.  *  Don't  you  see  a  lady'B 
coming?  Stand  aside  this  minute,  my  good  fellow,  and 
let  her  pass,  I  tell  you.' 

Delgado  turned  around,  almost  as  the  horse's  nose  was 
upon  him,  and  looking  the  young  man  defiantly  in  the  face, 
answered  with  an  ot-.ious  sneer :  •  Who  is  you,  sah,  dat 
you  speak  to  me  like-a  dat  ?  Dis  is  de  Queen  high-road, 
for  iiaygur  an'  for  buckra.  You  doan't  got  no  right  at  all 
to  turn  me  off  it.' 

Harry  recognised  his  man  at  once,  and  the  hot  temper 
of  the  Lincolnshire  Noels  boiled  up  within  him.  He  hit 
out  at  the  fellow  with  his  riding-whip  viciously.  Delgado 
didn't  attempt  to  dodge  the  blow — a  negro  never  does — 
but  merely  turned  his  head  haughtily,  so  that  the  bundle 
of  sticks  pubhed  hard  against  the  horse's  nose,  and  set  it 
bleeding  with  the  force  of  the  sudden  turn.  Delgado  knew 
it  would:  the  sticks,  in  fact,  were  prickly  acacia.  The 
horse  plunged  and  reared  a  little,  and  backed  up  in  &ight 
against  the  cactus  hedge.  The  sharp  cactus  spines  and 
the  long  aloe-hke  needles  of  the  pinguin  leaves  in  the 
hedgerow  goaded  his  flank  severely  as  he  backed  against 
them.  He  gave  another  plunge,  and  hit  up  wildly  against 
•Nora's  mount.  Nora  kept  her  seat  bravely,  but  with  some 
difQcnlty.  Harry  was  furious.  Forgetting  himself  entirely, 
he  knocked  the  bundle  of  sticks  off  the  old  man's  head 
with  a  sudden  swish  of  his  thick  riding-crop,  and  then  pro- 
ceeded to  lay  the  whip  twice  or  three  times  about  Delgado's 
ears  with  angry  vehemence.  To  his  great  surprise,  Del- 
gado stood,  erect  and  motionless,  as  if  he  didn't  even 
notice  the  blows.  Appeased  by  what  he  took  to  be  the 
man's  submissiveness,  Harry  dug  his  heel  into  his  horse's 
side  and  hurried  forward  to  rejoin  Nora,  who  had  ridden 
ahead  hastily  to  avoid  the  turmoil. 


TN  ALL  SHADES 


t05 


*  He's  an  ill-conditioned,  rude,  bad-blooded  fellow,  that 
nigger  there,'  he  said  apologetically  to  his  pretty  com- 

f  anion.  '  I  know  him  before.  He's  the  very  same  man 
told  yon  of  the  other  evening,  that  wouldn't  pick  my 
whip np  for  me  the  first  day  I  came  to  Trinidad.  I'm  glad 
he's  had  a  taste  of  it  to-day  for  his  continual  impudence.' 

*  He'll  have  you  up  for  assault,  you  may  be  sure, 
Mr.  Noel,'  Nora  answered  earnestly.  '  And  if  Mr.  Haw- 
thorn tries  the  case,  he'll  give  it  against  you,  for  he'U 
never  allow  any  white  man  to  strike  a  negro.  The  man's 
name  is  Delgado  ;  he's  an  African,  you  know — an  imported 
Afirican — and  a  regular  savage  and  he  bad  a  fearful 
quarrel  once  with  papa  and  Tom  Dupuy  about  the  wages, 
which  papa  has  never  forgiven.  But  Mr.  Hawthorn  does 
sav' — and  Nora  dropped  her  voice  a  little — 'that  he's 
really  had  a  great  deal  of  provocation,  and  that  Tom  Dupuy 
behaved  abominably,  which  of  course  is  very  probable,  for 
what  can  you  expect  from  Tom  Dupuy,  ^Ir.  Noel  ? — But 
still' — and  this  she  said  very  loudly — 'all  the  negroes 
themselves  will  tell  you  that  Louis  Delgado's  a  regular 
rattlesnake,  and  you  must  put  your  foot  firmly  down  upon 
him  if  you  want  to  crush  him.' 

*  If  you  put  your  foot  on  rattlesnake,'  Louis  Delgado 
cried  aloud  from  behind,  in  angry  accents,  'you  crush 
rattlesnake ;  but  rattlesnake  sting  you,  so  you  die.'  And 
then  he  muttered  to  himself  in  lower  tones :  '  An'  de 
rattlesnake  has  got  sting  in  him  tail  dat  will  hurt  dat 
mulatto  man  from  Englan',  still,  dat  tink  himself  proper 
buckra.' 

Tom  Dupuy  and  his  uncle  had  just  reached  the  spot 
when  Louis  Delgado  said  angrily  to  himself,  in  negro 
soUloquy,  this  damnmg  sentence.  Tom  reined  in  and 
looked  smilingly  at  his  uncle  as  Deltriulo  said  it.  *  So  you 
know  something,  too,  about  tliis  coufoundud  JMiglislnnan, 
you  danmed  nigger  you  1 '  he  said  condt'sc't'nUin;^'ly.  '  You've 
found  out  that  our  friend  Nuul's  a  wooliy-heudud  mulatto, 
have  you,  Delgado  ?  ' 

Louis  Delgado's  eyes  sparkled  with  gratified  malevolence 
as  he  answered  with  a  cunning  smile  :  '  Alia,  Mistah  Tom 
Dupuy,  you  glad  to  hear  dat,  sah  I    You  want  to  get  soma 


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tlf  ALL  SffADBS 


information  from  de  poor  najgnr  dis  ebenm',  do  yon?  No, 
no,  Bah ;  de  Dupuys  an'  me,  we  is  not  fren' ;  we  is  at 
variance  one  wit  de  odder.  I  doan't  gwine  to  tell  yon 
nuffin'  at  all,  sah,  aboat  de  buckra  from  Englan*.  Bat 
when  mule  kick  too  much,  I  say  to  him  often :  '*  Ha,  ha, 
me  fren',  you  is  too  proud.  You  tink  you  is  horse.  I 
s'pose  you  doan't  rightly  remember  dat  your  own  fader 
wasn't  nuffin'  but  a  common  jackass !  **  * 

He  loved  to  play  with  both  his  intended  victims  at  onoe, 
as  a  cat  plays  with  a  captured  mouse  before  she  kills  it. 
Keep  him  in  suspense  as  long  as  you  can — that's  the  point 
of  the  game.  Dandle  him,  and  torture  him,  and  hold  him 
off ;  but  never  tell  him  the  truth  outright,  for  good  or  for 
evil,  as  long  as  you  can  possibly  help  it. 

*  Do  you  really  know  anything,'  Tom  Dupuy  asked 
eagerly,  *  or  are  you  only  guessing  Uke  all  the  rest  of  us  ? 
Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you've  got  any  proof  that  the  fel- 
low's a  nigger  ?— Come,  come,  Delgado,  we  may  have 
quarrelled,  but  you  needn't  be  nasty  about  it.  I've  got  a 
grudge  against  this  man  Noel,  and  I  don't  mind  paying 
you  liberally  for  anything  you  can  tell  me  against  him.' 

But  Delgado  shook  his  head  doggedly.  *  I  doan't  want 
your  money,  sah,'  he  answered  with  a  slow  drawl ; '  I  want 
more  dan  your  money,  if  I  want  anyting.  But  I  doan't 
gwine  to  help  you  agin  me  own  colour.  Buckra  for  buckra, 
an'  colour  for  colour  I  If  you  want  to  find  out  about  him, 
why  don't  you  write  to  de  buckra  gentlemen  over  in 
Barbadoes  ? ' 

He  kept  the  pair  of  white  men  there,  dawdling  and 
parleying  for  twenty  minutes  nearly,  while  Harry  and 
Nora  went  riding  away  alone  towards  the  mountain  cabbage- 
palms.  It  pleased  Delgado  thus  to  be  able  to  hold  the  two 
together  on  the  tenter-hooks  of  suspense — to  exercise  his 
power  before  the  two  buckras.  At  last,  Tom  Dupuy  con- 
descended to  direct  entreaty.  '  Delgado,'  he  said  with  much 
magnanimity,  '  you  know  I  don't  often  ask  a  favour  of  a 
nigger,  it  am't  the  way  with  us  Dupuys ;  it  don't  run  in 
the  family — but  still,  I  ask  you  as  a  personal  favour  to  tell 
me  whatever  ^ron  know  about  this  matter :  I  have  reasons 
9f  my  own  wliich  make  me  ask  you  as  a  personal  favour.* 


Zm  ALL  SHADES 


S07 


Delgado'B  eyes  glistened  horribly.  *6jokra,*  he  an- 
swered with  a  hideous  grin,  droppmg  all  the  usual  polite 
formulas, '  I  will  tell  you  for  true,  dec  ;  I  will  tell  you  all 
about  it.  Dat  man  Noel  is  son  ob  brown  gal  &om  ole 
Barbadoes.  Her  name  is  Budleigb,  'an  herfam'lyis  brown 
folks  dat  lib  at  place  dam  call  de  Wilderness.  I  hear  all 
about  dem  from  Isaac  PourtaJ^s.  Pourtales  &n'  dis  man 
Noel,  dem  is  bot'  cousin.  De  man  is  brown  just  same  like 
Isaac  Pourtales  1 ' 

*  By  Qeorge,  Uncle  Tom  I  *  Tom  Dupuy  cried  exultantly, 
'  Delgado's  right — right  to  the  letter.  PourtalSs  is  a  Bar- 
badoes man :  his  father  was  one  of  the  Pourtal^ses  of  this 
island  who  settled  in  Barbadoes,  and  his  mother  must  have 
been  one  of  these  brown  Budleighs.  Noel  told  us  himself 
the  other  day  his  mother  was  a  Budleigh — a  Budleigh  of 
the  Wilderness.  He's  been  over  in  Barbadoes  looking  after 
their  property. — By  Jove,  Delgado,  I'd  rather  have  a  piece 
of  news  like  that  than  a  hundred  pounds  I — We  shall  stick 
a  pin,  after  all.  Uncle  Theodore,  in  that  confounded, 
stuck-up,  fal-lal  mulatto  man.' 

'It's  too  late  to  follow  them  up  by  the  mountain 
cabbages,'  Mr.  Theodore  Dupuy  exclaimed  with  an  anxious 
sigh — how  did  he  know  but  that  at  that  very  moment  this 
undoubted  brown  man  might  be  proposing  (hang  his  impu- 
dence I)  to  his  daughter  Nora  ? — *  it's  too  late  to  follow 
them,  if  we  mean  to  dress  for  dinner.  We  must  go  home 
straight  by  the  road,  and  even  then  we  won't  overtake 
them  before  they're  back  at  Orange  Grove,  Tm  afraid, 
Tom.' 

Delgado  st^  ad  in  the  middle  of  the  lane  and  watched 
them  retreating  at  an  easy  canter ;  then  he  solemnly  re- 
placed the  bundle  of  sticks  on  the  top  of  his  head,  spread 
out  his  hands  and  fingers  in  the  most  expressively  derisive 
African  attitudes,  and  began  to  dance  with  wild  glee  a 
sort  of  imaginary  triumphal  war-dance  over  his  intended 
slaughter.  *  Ha,  ha  1 '  he  cried  aloud,  *  Wednesday  ebenin* 
— Wednesday  ebenin'l  De  great  and  terrible  dayob  de 
Lard  comin'  for  true  on  We^esday  ebenin'  1  Slay,  sla^, 
slay,  sait'  de  Lard,  an'  leave  not  one  libbin'  soul  beldnd  m 
de  land  ob  de  Amalekitei.    Dat  is  de  Urat  m'  de  last  good 


■  1       .  . 


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208 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


turn  I  ever  gwiiie  to  do  for  Tom  Dapny,  for  oertain.    I 

doan't  want  bid  money,  I  tell  bim,  but  I  want  de  blood  ob 
bim.  On  Wednesday  nigbt  I  gwine  to  get  it.  Ha,  ha,  de 
Lard  is  wit  us  I  We  i^wine  to  slay  de  remnant  ob  de  ac- 
cursed Amalekites.'  He  paused  a  moment,  and  poised  the 
bundle  more  evenly  on  bis  bead  ;  tben  he  went  on  walking 
homewards  more  quietly,  but  talking  to  himself  aloud,  in  a 
clear,  angry,  guttural  voice,  as  negroes  will  do  under  the 
influence  of  powerful  excitement.  *  What  for  I  doan't  tell 
dat  man  Noel  himself  dat  he  is  mulatto  when  him  hit  me  ?  * 
be  askod  himself  with  rhetorical  earnestness.  *  Becase  I 
doan't  want  to  go  an'  spoil  de  fim  ob  de  whole  discovery. 
If  I  tell  bim,  dat  doan't  nuffin'— even  before  de  missy. 
Tom  Dupuy  is  proper  buckra :  he  bate  Noel,  an'  Noel  hate 
bim !  He  gwine  to  tell  it  so  it  sting  Noel.  He  gwine  to 
disgrace  dat  proud  man  before  de  buckras  an*  before  de 
missy ! ' 

He  paused  again,  and  chewed  violently  for  a  minute  or 
two  at  a  piece  of  cane  be  pulled  out  of  his  pocket ;  then  he 
spat  out  the  dry  refuse  with  a  fierce  explosion  of  laughter, 
and  went  on  again  :  '  But  I  doan't  gwine  to  punish  Noel 
like  I  gwine  to  punish  de  Dupuys  an'  de  missy.  Noel  is 
fren'  ob  Mistah  Hawtorn,  de  fren'  ob  de  naygur :  dat  gwine 
to  be  imputed  to  him  for  righteousness,  when  de  Lard's 
time  comin'.  In  de  great  an'  terrible  day  ob  de  Lard,  de 
angel  gwine  to  pass  ober  Noel,  same  as  him  pass  ober  de 
house  ob  Israel ;  but  de  bouse  ob  de  Dupuy  shall  perish 
utterly,  like  de  bouse  ob  Pharaoh,  an'  like  de  house  ob  Saul 
king  ob  Israel,  whose  seed  was  destroyed  out  obde  land,  fo 
dat  not  one  ob  dem  left  libbinV 


OHAPTEB  XXX. 

'  Thib  is  awkward,  Tom,  awfully  awkward,*  Mr.  Theodore 
Dupuy  said  to  his  nephew  as  they  rode  homeward.  '  We 
must  manage  somehow  to  get  rid  of  this  man  as  early  as 
possible.  Of  course,  we  can't  keep  him  in  the  house  any 
longer  with  your  cousin  Nora,  now^at  we  know  he's  really 


IN  A^Tj  PTTADES 


209 


nothing  more — ^bu,:'onet  or  no  baronet — than  %  common 
mulatto.  But  at  the  same  tiDie,  you  see,  we  can't  get 
rid  of  him  anyhow  by  any  possibility  before  the  dinner 
to-morrow  evening.  I've  asked  several  of  the  best 
people  in  Trinidad  especially  to  meet  him,  and  I  don't 
want  to  go  and  stultify  myself  openly  before  the  eyea 
of  the  whole  island.  What  the  dickens  can  we  do  about 
it?' 

•If  you'd  taken  my  advice,  Uncle  Theodore,'  Tom 
Dupuy  answered  sullenly,  in  spite  of  his  triumph,  '  you'd 
have  got  rid  of  him  long  ago.  As  it  is,  you'll  have  to  keep 
him  on  now  till  after  Tuesday,  and  then  we  must  manage 
fomehow  to  dismiss  him  politely.' 

They  rode  on  withoui  another  word  till  they  reached 
the  house ;  there,  they  found  Nora  and  ILirry  had  arrived 
before  them,  and  had  gone  in  to  dress  for  dinner.  Mr. 
Dupuy  followed  their  example ;  but  Tom,  who  had  made 
up  his  mind  suddenly  to  stop,  loitered  about  on  the  lawn 
under  the  big  star-apple  tree,  waiting  in  the  cool  till  the 
young  EngHshman  should  make  his  appearance. 

Meanwhile,  Nora,  in  her  o^vn  dressing-room,  attended 
by  Rosina  Fleming  and  Aunt  Clemmy,  was  thinkirg  over 
the  afternoon's  ride  very  much  to  her  own  satisfaction. 
Mr.  Noel  was  really  after  all  a  very  nice  follow — if  he 
hadn't  been  so  dreadfully  dark ;  but  there,  he  was  really 
just  one  shade  too  dusky  in  the  face  ever  to  please  a  West 
Indian  fancy.  And  yet  he  was  certainly  very  much  in 
love  with  her !  The  very  persistence  with  which  he  avoided 
reopening  the  subject,  while  he  wont  on  paying  her  such 
very  marked  attention,  showed  in  itself  how  Thoroughly  in 
earnest  he  was.  *  He'll  propose  to  me  again  to-morrow — 
I'm  quite  sure  he  will,'  Nora  thought  to  herself,  as  Rosina 
fastened  up  her  hair  with  a  sprig  of  plumbago  and  a  little 
delicate  spray  of  wild  maidenhnir.  •  He  was  almost  going 
to  propose  to  me  as  we  came  along  by  the  mountain  cab- 
bages this  afternoon,  only  I  saw  him  hei^itating,  and  I 
turned  the  current  of  the  conversation.  I  wonder  why  I 
turned  it  ?  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  why.  I  wonder  whether 
it  Tfas  because  I  didn't  know  whether  I  should  answer 
**  Yes  "  or  '*  No,"  ii  ho  were  really  to  ask  me  ?    I  think 


W 


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IN  ALL  SHADES 


one  onght  to  decide  in  one's  own  mind  beforehand  what 
one's  Koiiig  to  say  in  such  a  case,  especially  when  a  man 
has  asked  one  alreiidjr.    He's  awfully  nice.    I  wish  he  was 

I'ust  a  shade  or  two  hghter.  I  believe  Tom  really  fancies — 
le's  BO  dark  -it  isn't  quite  right  with  him.' 

Isaac  Pourtal6s,  lounging  about  that  minute,  watching 
for  Rosina,  whom  he  had  come  to  talk  with,  saw  Nora  flit 
for  a  second  past  the  open  window  of  the  passage,  in  her 
light  and  gauze-like  evening  dress,  with  open  neck  iii  front, 
and  the  flowers  twined  in  her  pretty  hair ;  and  he  said  to 
himself  as  he  glanced  up  at  her :  *  De  word  ob  de  Lard  say 
right,  ••  Take  captive  de  women  I  "  ' 

At  the  same  moment,  Tom  Dupuy,  stroUing  idly  on  tho 
lawn  in  the  thickening  twihght,  caught  sight  of  Pourtal^s, 
and  beckoned  him  towards  him  with  an  imperious  finger. 

•  Come  here,*  he  said ;  •  I  want  to  talk  with  you,  you  nigger 
there. — You're  Isaac  Pourtal^s,  aren't  you  ? — I  tlionght  so. 
Then  come  and  tell  me  all  you  know  about  this  confounded 
cousin  of  yours— this  man  Noel.' 

Isaac  PouLtal^s,  nothing  loth,  poured  forth  at  once  in 
Tom  Dupuy's  listening  ear  the  whole  story,  so  far  as  he 
knew  it,  of  Lady  Noel's  antecedents  in  Barbadoes.  "While 
the  two  men,  the  white  and  the  brown,  were  still  conversing 
under  the  shade  of  the  star-apple  tree,  Nora,  who  had  como 
down  to  the  drawing-room  meanwhile,  strolled  out  for  a 
minute,  beguiled  by  the  cool  air,  on  to  the  smoothly  kept 
lawn  in  front  of  the  drawing-room  window.  Tom  saw  her, 
and  beckoned  her  to  him  with  his  finger,  exactly  as  he  had 
beckoned  the  tall  mulatto.  Nora  gazed  at  the  beckoning 
hand  with  the  intensest  disdain,  and  then  turned  away,  as 
if  perfectly  unconscious  of  his  ungainly  gesture,  to  examine 
the  tuberoses  and  great  bell-shaped  brugmansias  of  the 
garden  border. 

Tom  walked  up  to  her  angrily  and  rudely.  *  Didn't  you 
see  me  calling  you,  miss  ? '  he  said  in  his  harsh  drawl,  with 
no  pretence  of  unnecessary  politeness.  '  Didn't  you  see  I 
wanted  to  speak  to  you  ? ' 

*  I  saw  you  making  signs  to  somebody  with  your  band, 
as  if  yon  took  me  for  a  servant,'  Nora  answered  coldly ; 

*  and  not  haying  been  accustomed  in  England  to  be  called 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


ill 


as 


in  that  waj,  I  thonght  yon  must  Lave  made  a  mistake  aa  to 
whom  you  were  dealing  with.' 

Tom  started  and  muttered  an  ugly  oath.  '  In  Eng- 
land/ he  repeated.  *  Oh,  ah,  in  England.  West  Indian 
gentlemen,  it  seems,  aren't  good  enough  for  you,  mies, 
since  this  fellow  Noel  has  come  o\it  to  make  up  to  you.  I 
suppose  you  don't  happen  to  know  that  he's  a  West  Indian 
too,  and  a  precious  rum  sort  of  one  into  the  bargain  ?  I 
know  you  mean  to  marry  him,  miss ;  but  all  I  can  tell  you 
is,  your  father  and  I  are  not  going  to  permit  it.' 

'  I  don't  wish  to  marry  him,'  Nora  answered,  flushing 
fiery  red  all  over  ('  Him  is  pretty  for  true  when  him  blush 
hke  dat,'  Isaac  PourtalSs  said  to  himself  from  the  shade  of 
the  star-apple  tree).  '  But  if  I  did,  I  wouldn't  listen  to 
anything  you  might  choose  to  say  against  him,  Tom  Dupuy ; 
80  that's  plain  speaking  enough  for  you.' 

Tom  sneered.  *  0  no,'  he  said ;  '  I  always  kriew  ycu'd 
end  by  marrying  a  woolly-headed  mulatto ;  and  ^^his  man's 
one,  I  don't  mind  telling  you.  He's  a  brown  man  bom ; 
bis  mother,  though  she  ta  Lady  Noel — fine  sort  of  a  Ladv, 
indeed — is  nothing  better  than  a  Barbadoes  brown  girl ; 
and  he's  own  cousm  to  Isaac  Pourtalds  over  yonder  I  He 
is,  I  swear  to  you. — Isaac,  come  here,  sir  I ' 

Nora  gave  a  little  suppressed  scream  of  surprise  and 
horror  as  the  t^  mulatto,  in  his  ragged  shirt,  leering  hor- 
ribly, emerged  unexpectedly,  like  a  black  spectra,  from  tha 
shadows  opposite. 

*  Isaac,'  the  young  planter  said  with  a  mahoions  smile, 
'  who  is  this  young  man,  I  ^ant  to  know,  that  calls  himself 
Mister  Hoel?' 

Isaac  Pourtalds  touched  his  slouching  hat  awkwardly 
as  he  answered,  under  his  breath,  with  an  ugly  scowl: 
*  Him  me  own  cousin,  sah,  an'  me  mudder  cousin.  Him 
an'  me  mudder  is  fum'ly  long  ago  in  ole  Burbadoes.' 

*  There  you  are,  Nora  I '  Tom  Dupuy  cried  out  to  her 
triumphantly.  'You  see  what  sort  of  person  your  fine 
English  friend  has  turned  out  to  be.' 

*  Tom  Dupuy,'  Nora  cried  in  her  wrath — but  in  her  own 
heart  she  knew  it  wasn't  tru(»— '  if  vou  tell  mo  this,  tr>*ing 
lo  set  me  against  Mr.  Noel,  you've  failed  in  your  purpose, 


;  -! 


1 1 


m 


■  fH 


.  t  I. 
it  i" 


S13 


IN  ALL  SHADBS 


sir :  what  yon  Bay  has  no  effect  upon  me.  I  do  not  care 
for  him ;  you  are  quite  mistaken  about  that ;  but  if  I  did, 
I  don't  mind  telling  you,  your  wicked  scheming  would  only 
make  me  like  him  all  the  better.  Tom  Dupuy,  no  real 
gentleman  would  ever  try  so  to  undermine  another  man'a 
position.' 

At  that  moment,  Harry  Noel,  just  descending  to  the 
drawing-room,  strolled  out  to  meet  them  on  the  lawn, 
quite  unconscious  of  this  little  family  altercation.  Nora 
glanced  hastily  from  Tom  Dupuy,  in  his  planter  coat  and 
high  riding-boots,  to  Harry  Noel,  looking  so  tall  and  hand- 
some in  his  evening  dress,  and  couldn't  help  noticing  in 
her  own  mind  which  of  the  two  was  the  truest  gentleman. 
*  Mr.  Noel,'  she  said,  accepting  his  half-proffered  arm  with 
a  natural  and  instinctive  gracious  movement,  'will  you 
take  me  in  to  dinner?  •  I  see  it's  ready.' 

Tom  Dupuy,  crestfallen  and  .istonished,  followed  after, 
and  muttered  to  himself  with  deeper  conviction  than  ever 
that  he  always  knew  that  girl  Nora  would  end  in  the  long 
run  by  marrying  a  confounded  wocUy-headed  mulatto. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Next  day  was  Tuesday;  and  to  Lonis  Del;  xdo  and  his 
friends  at  least,  the  days  were  now  well  worth  counting ; 
for  was  not  the  hour  of  the  Lord's  deliverance  fixed  for 
eight  o'clock  on  Wednesday  evening  ? 

Nora,  too,  had  some  reason  to  count  the  days  for  her 
own  purposes,  for  on  Tuesday  night  they  were  to  have  a 
big  dinner-party — the  biggest  undertaken  at  Orange  Grove 
since  Nora  had  first  returned  to  her  father's  house  in  the 
capacity  of  hostess.  Mr.  Dupuy,  while  still  uncertain 
about  Harry  Noel's  precise  colour,  had  thought  it  well — 
giving  him  the  benefit  of  the  doubt — to  invite  all  the 
neighbouring  planters  to  meet  the  distinguished  member 
of  the  English  aristocracy ;  it  reminded  him,  he  said,  of 
(hose  bygone  days  when  Port-of- Spain  was  crowded  with 
aarriagei,  and  Trinidad  wn  s  still  one  of  the  brightest  jewels 


nf  ALL  SBADES 


tll3 


hia 
for 


tain 


in  the  British  crown  ^a  period  perfectly  historical  in  every 
Englieh  colony  all  tne  world  over,  and  usually  placed 
about  the  date  when  the  particular  speaker  for  the  time 
being  was  just  five-and-twenty). 

That  Tuesday  morning,  as  fate  would  have  it,  Mr. 
Dupuy  had  gone  with  the  buggy  into  Port-of- Spain  for  the 
very  prosaic  purpose— let  us  ^in  confess  it — of  laying  in 
provisions  for  the  night's  entertainment.  In  a  country 
where  the  fish  for  your  evening's  dinner  must  all  have 
been  swimming  about  merrily  in  the  depths  of  the  sea  at 
eight  o'clock  the  same  morning,  where  your  leg  of  mutton 
must  have  been  careering  joyously  in  guileless  innocence 
across  the  grassy  plain,  and  your  chicken  cutlets  must 
have  borne  their  part  in  investigating  the  merits  of  the 
juicy  caterpillar  while  you  were  still  loitering  over  late 
breakfast,  the  question  of  commissariat  is  of  course  a  far 
less  simple  one  than  in  our  own  well-supplied  and  market- 
stocked  England.  To  arrange  beforehand  that  a  particular 
dusky  fisherman  shall  stake  his  life  on  the  due  catching 
and  killing  of  a  turtle  for  the  soup  on  that  identical 
morning  and  no  other;  that  a  particular  oyster- woman 
shall  cut  the  bivalves  for  the  oyster  sauce  from  the  tidal 
branches  of  the  mangrove  swamp  not  earlier  than  three  or 
later  than  five  in  the  afternoon,  on  her  honour  as  a  pur- 
veyor ;  and  that  a  particular  lounging  negro  coffee-planter 
somewhere  on  the  hills  shall  guarantee  a  sufficient  supply 
of  black  land-crabs  for  not  less  than  fourteen  persons — 
turtle  and  oyster  and  crab  being  all  as  yet  in  the  legitimate 
enjovment  of  their  perfect  natural  freedom — all  this,  I  say, 
involves  the  possession  of  strategical  faculties  of  a  high 
order,  which  would  render  a  man  who  has  once  kept  house 
in  the  West  Indies  perfectly  capable  of  undertaking  the 
res  frumentaria  for  an  English  army  on  one  of  its  in- 
numerable slaughtering  picnics,  for  the  extension  of  the 
blessings  of  British  rule  among  a  totally  new  set  of  black, 
benighted,  and  hitherto  happy  heathen.  Now  Mr.  Dupuy 
was  a  model  entertainer,  of  the  West  Lidian  pattern  ;  and 
having  schemed  and  devised  all  these  his  plans  beforehand 
with  profound  wisdom,  he  had  now  gone  into  Port-of-Spain 
with  Uie  boggy*  on  hospitable  thoughts  intent,  to  bring 


\\.\ 


fffii 


1 

- 1.    , 


su 


IS  ALL  SHADES 


! 


out  whatever  he  could  get,  and  make  arrangements,  by 
means  of  tinned  provisions  from  England,  for  the  inevitable 
deficiencies  which  always  turn  up  under  such  circumstances 
at  the  last  moment.  So  Harry  and  Nora  were  left  alone 
quite  to  themselves  for  the  whole  morning. 

The  veranda  of  the  house — it  fronted  on  the  back 
garden  at  Orange  Grove — is  always  the  pleasantest  place 
in  which  to  sit  during  the  heat  of  the  day  in  a  West 
Indian  household.  The  air  comes  so  delightfully  fresh 
through  the  open  spaces  of  the  creeper-covered  trellis- 
work,  and  the  humming-birds  buzz  about  so  merrily  among 
the  crimson  passion-flowers  under  your  very  eyes,  and  the 
banana  bushes  whisper  so  gently  before  the  delicate  fan- 
ning of  the  cool  sea  breezes  in  the  leafy  courtyard,  that 
you  he  back  dreamily  in  your  folding  chair  and  half  believe 
yourself,  for  once  in  your  life,  in  the  poet's  Paradise.  On 
such  a  veranda  Harry  Noel  and  Nora  Dupuy  sat  together 
that  Tuesday  morning ;  Harry  pretending  to  read  a  paper, 
which  lay,  however,  unfolded  on  his  knees — what  does  one 
want  with  newspapers  in  Paradise? — and  Nora  almost 
equally  pretending  to  busy  herself,  Penelope-hke,  with  a 
wee  square  of  dainty  crewel- work,  concerning  which  it 
need  only  be  said  that  one  small  flower  appeared  to  take 
a  most  unconscionable  and  incredible  time  for  its  proper 
shaping.  They  were  talking  together  as  young  man  and 
maiden  will  talk  to  one  another  idly  under  such  circum- 
stances— circUng  half  unconsciously  round  and  round  the 
object  of  both  their  thoughts,  she  avoiding  it,  and  he  per- 
petually converging  towards  it,  till  at  last,  hke  a  pair  of 
silly,  fluttering  moths  around  the  flame  of  the  candle,  tliey 
find  themselves  finally  landed,  by  a  sudden  side-flight,  in 
the  very  centre  at  an  actual  declaration. 

'  Really,'  Harry  said  at  length,  at  a  pause  in  the  con- 
versation, '  thi  i  is  positively  too  delicious,  Miss  Dupuy,  this 
sunshine  and  breeziness.  How  the  light  glances  on  the 
little  green  lizards  on  the  wall  over  yonder  1  How  beauti- 
ftd  the  bongainvillea  looks,  as  it  clambers  with  its  great 
purple  masses  over  that  big  bare  trunk  there  I  We  have  a 
splendid  bougaiuWUea  in  the  greenhouse  at  our  place  in 
Xlinoolnshire ;  but  oh,  what  a  dillereuce,  when  one  sees  it 


m  ALL  STTADEa 


t]5 


the 


hey 
ill 


elamberiiig  in  its  naiive  wildness  like  that,  from  the  poor 
little  stunted  things  we  trail  and  crucify  on  our  artificial 
supports  oyer  yonder  in  England  I  I  almost  feel  inclined 
to  take  np  my  abode  here  altogether,  it  all  looks  so  green 
and  Bumiy  and  bright  and  beautiful.' 

*And  yet,'  Nora  said,  'Mr.  Hawthorn  told  me  your 
father's  place  in  Lincolnshire  is  so  very  lovely.  He  thinks 
it's  the  finest  country  seat  he's  ever  seen  anywhere  in 
England.' 

*  Yes,  it  is  pretty,  certainly,'  Harry  Noel  admitted  with 
a  depreciating  wave  of  his  delicate  right  hand — 'very 
pretty,  and  very  well  kept  up,  one  must  allow,  as  places  go 
nowadays.  I  took  Hawthorn  down  there  one  summer  vac, 
when  we  two  were  at  Cambridge  together,  and  he  was  quite 
deUghted  with  it ;  and  really  it  is  a  very  nice  place  too, 
though  it  is  in  Lincolnsliire.  The  house  is  old,  you  know, 
really  old — not  Elizabethan,  but  early  Tudor,  Henry  the 
Seventh,  or  something  thereabouts :  all  battlements  and 
comer  turrets,  and  roses  and  portcullises  on  all  the  shields, 
and  a  fine  old  portico,  added  bv  Inigo  Jcies,  I  believe,  and 
out  of  keeping,  of  course,  with  the  resi  of  the  front,  but 
still  very  fine  and  dignified  in  its  own  way,  for  all  that,  in 
spite  of  what  the  architects  (awful  prigs)  say  to  the  con- 
trary. And  then  there's  a  splendid  avenue  of  Spanish 
chestnuts,  considered  to  be  the  oldest  in  all  England,  you 
Iljow  (though,  to  be  sure,  they've  got  the  oldest  Spanish 
chestnuts  in  the  whole  country  at  every  house  in  all 
Lincolnshire  that  I've  ever  been  to).  And  the  lawn's  pretty, 
very  pretty ;  a  fine  stretch  of  sward,  with  good  parterres  of 
these  ugly,  modern,  jam-tart  flowers,  leading  down  to 
about  the  best  sheet  of  water  in  the  whole  county,  with 
lots  of  swans  on  it. — Yes,'  he  added  reflectively,  contrast- 
ing the  picture  in  his  own  mind  with  the  one  then  actually 
before  him,  *  the  Hall's  not  a  bad  sort  of  place  in  its  own 
w»  y — far  from  it.* 

*  And  Mr.  Hawthorn  told  me,'  Nora  put  in, '  that  you'd 
got  Buch  splendid  conservatories  and  gardens,  too.' 

*  Well,  we  have :  there's  no  denying  it.  They're  cer- 
tainly good  in  their  way,  too,  verv  good  conservatories. 
You  Bee,  my  dear  mother's  very  fond  of  flowers:  it'B  • 


I 


'i 


I    ! 


■  i 


2tO 


IN  AhL  SITiDRS 


iiorfeot  paeslon  with  her ;  brotipht  it  over  from  Barbadoos, 
1  fancy.  Bhe  wa8  one  of  the  very  first  pooplo  who  wont 
in  for  growing  orchids  on  the  hirge  scale  in  England.  Her 
orcliid-housub  aro  really  awfully  boautiful.  We  never  have 
anything  but  orchids  on  the  table  for  dinner — in  the  way 
of  flowers,  I  moan — we  don't  dine  off  a  lilv,  of  courBO,  as 
thoy  say  the  aesthetes  do.  And  my  mother 'b  never  so 
proud  as  when  anybody  praises  and  admires  her  masdo- 
vallias  or  her  thingumbobianas— I'm  sorry  to  say  I  don't 
myself  know  the  names  of  half  of  them.  She's  a  dear, 
sweet  old  lady,  my  mother,  Miss  Dupuy;  I'm  sure  yc? 
couldn't  fail  to  liUo  my  dear  mother.' 

*  She's  a  Harbadian  too,  you  told  us,'  Nora  said  reflec- 
tively. '  How  curious  that  she,  too,  should  be  a  West 
Indian  I  * 

Harry  half  sighed.  He  miaunderstood  entiroly  the  train 
of  thouglit  that  was  passing  that  moment  through  Nora's 
mind,  lie  believed  she  taw  in  it  a  certain  raiiprochcmcnt  be- 
tween them  two,  a  natural  fitness  of  things  to  bring  them 
together.  *  Yes,'  he  said  with  more  tenderness  in  his  tone 
tlian  was  often  his  wont,  •  my  mother's  a  Barbadian,  Miss 
Dupuy  ;  such  a  grand,  noble-looking,  commanding  woman 
— not  old  yfit ;  she  never  will  be  old,  in  fact ;  she's  too 
handsome  for  that ;  but  so  graceful  and  boautiful,  and 
wonderfully  winning  as  well,  in  all  her  pretty,  dainty,  old 
coffee- coloured  laces.'  And  he  pulled  from  his  pocket  a 
little  miniature,  which  he  always  wore  next  to  his  heart.  He 
wore  another  one  beside  it  too,  but  that  one  he  didn't  show 
her  just  then ;  it  was  her  own  face,  done  on  ivory  by  a 
well-known  artist,  from  a  photograph  which  he  had  begged 
or  borrowed  from  Marian  Hawthorn's  album  twelve  months 
before  in  London. 

•  She's  a  uoautiful  old  lady,  certainly,'  Nora  answered, 
gazing  in  some  surprise  at  Lady  Noel's  clear-out  and 
haughty,  high  born  looking  features.  She  couldn't  for  the 
moment  exactly  remember  where  she  had  seen  some  others 
so  very  Uke  them ;  and  then,  as  Harry's  evil  genius  would 
unluckily  have  it,  slie  suddenly  recollected  with  a  start  of 
recognition  ;  she  had  seen  them  just  the  evening  before  on 
the  lawn  in  front  of  her ;  they  answered  precisely,  in  a 


TS  ALL  SnADBS 


211 


how 


tighter   tint,  to  the    features    and    expicHsion  of   Isaac 
Pourtal^H  I 

*  Uow  proud  she  muBt  bo  to  bo  the  miHtn^HH  of  snoh  a 
place  as  Noel  Hull  I '  she  RQ,id  intiHiiigly,  aft(3r  a  sliort  pause, 
pursuing  in  her  own  mind  to  horsoif  hor  own  privato  line 
of  refloction.  It  seoinod  to  hor  as  if  the  luiiroBS  of  tlu; 
Dorbadian  brown  pooplomust  needs  find  hurHolf  iminonHoly 
lifted  up  in  the  world  by  becoming  the  lady  of  such  a 
splendid  mansion  as  Harry  had  just  half  unconsciously  de- 
scribed to  her. 

But  Harry  himself,  to  whom,  of  course,  Lady  Noel  had 
been  Lady  Noel,  and  notliinp:  olso,  an  long  iia  over  he  oould 
remember  her,  again  miHundcrBlood  eiitiroly  the  conrno  of 
Nora's  thoughts,  and  took  her  naive  exproHHJon  of  surprise 
as  a  hapuv  omen  for  his  own  suit.  '  She  thinks,'  he  thought 
to  himself  quietly,  'that  it  must  be  not  such  a  very  bad 
position  after  all  to  be  mistress  of  the  finost  estate  in  Lin- 
colnshire !  But  I  don't  want  her  to  marry  mo  for  that. 
0  no,  not  for  that  I  that  would  be  misorablo  I  I  want  her 
to  marry  me  for  my  very  self,  or  else  for  notliing.'  So  he 
merely  added  aloud,  in  an  unconcerned  tone  :  •  Yes ;  she's 
very  iond  of  the  place  and  of  the  gardens ;  and  as  she's  a 
West  Indian  by  birth,  I'm  sure  you'd  like  her  very  much, 
Miss  Dupuy,  if  you  were  ever  to  meet  her.' 

Nora  coloured.  '  I  should  like  to  see  some  of  these  fine 
EngUsh  places  very  much,'  she  said,  half  timidly,  trying 
with  awkward  abruptness  to  break  the  current  of  the  con- 
versation. '  I  never  had  the  chance  when  I  was  last  in 
England.  My  aunt,  you  know,  knew  only  very  quiet 
people  in  London,  and  we  never  visited  at  any  of  the  great 
country  houses.' 

Harry  determined  that  instant  to  throw  his  last  die  at 
once  on  this  evident  chance  that  opened  up  so  temptingly 
before  him,  and  said  with  fervour,  bending  forward  towards 
her :  '  I  hope.  Miss  Dupuy,  when  you  are  next  in  England, 
you'll  have  the  opportunity  of  seeing  many,  and  some  day 
of  becoming  the  mistress  of  the  finest  in  Lincolnshire.  I 
told  you  at  Southampton,  you  know,  that  I  would  follow 
you  to  Trinidad,  and  I've  kept  my  promise. — Oh,  Misi 
Dupuy,  I  hope  you  don't  mean  to  say  no  to  mo  this  time 


III 


'  ;;-i 


tis 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


again  I  We  have  each  had  twelve  months  more  to  make 
up  our  minds  in.  Daring  all  those  twelve  months,  I  have 
only  learned  every  day,  whether  in  England  or  in  Trinidad, 
to  love  you  better.  I  have  felt  compelled  to  come  out  here 
and  ask  you  to  accept  me.  And  you — haven't  you  found 
your  heart  growing  any  softer  meanwhile  towards  me? 
Will  ^ou  unsay  now  the  refusal  you  gave  me  a  year  ago 
over  m  England  ?  ' 

He  spoke  in  a  soft  persuasive  voice,  which  thrilled 
through  Nora's  very  inmost  being ;  and  as  she  looked  at 
him,  so  handsome,  so  fluent,  so  well-bom,  so  noble-looking, 
she  could  hardly  refrain  from  whispering  low  a  timid  '  Yes,' 
on  the  impulse  of  the  moment.  But  something  that  was 
to  her  almost  as  the  prick  of  conscience  arose  at  once 
irresistibly  within  her,  and  she  motioned  away  quickly, 
with  a  little  gesture  of  positive  horror,  the  hand  with  which 
Harry  strove  half  forcibly  to  take  her  own.  The  image  of 
scowling  Isaac  PourtalSs  as  he  emerged,  all  unexpectedly, 
from  the  shadow  the  night  before,  rose  up  now  in  strange 
vividness  before  her  eyes  and  blinded  her  vision;  next 
moment,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  she  perceived 
hurriedly  that  Isaac  not  only  resembled  Lady  Noel,  but 
quite  as  closely  resembled  in  face  and  feature  Harry  also. 
That  unhappy  resemblance  was  absolutely  fatal  to  poor 
Harry's  doubtful  chance  of  final  acceptance.  Nora  shrank 
back,  half  frightened  and  wholly  disenchanted,  as  far  as  she 
could  go,  in  her  own  chair,  and  answered  in  a  suddenly 
altered  voice :  *  Oh,  Mr.  Noel,  I  didn't  know  you  were 
going  to  begin  that  subject  again ;  I  thought  we  met  on 
neutral  ground,  merely  as  friends  now.  I — I  gave  you  my 
answer  definitely  long  ago  at  Southampton.  There  has 
been  nothing — nothing  of  any  sort — to  make  me  alter  it 
since  I  spoke  to  you  then.  I  like  you — I  like  you  very 
much  indeed  ;  and  I'm  so  grateful  to  you  for  standing  up 
as  you  have  stood  up  for  Mr.  Hawthorn  and  for  poor  dear 
Marian — but  I  can  never,  never,  never — never  marry 
your 

Harry  drew  back  hastily  with  sudden  surprise  and 
great  astonishment.  He  had  felt  almost  sure  she  was 
going  thig  time  really  to  accept  him ;  eveiything  i^  aaid 


m  ALL  8BADS8 


tit 


and 
waa 


had  sounded  so  exactly  as  if  she  meant  at  last  to  take  him. 
The  disappointment  took  away  his  power  of  fluent  speech. 
He  oould  only  ask,  in  a  suddenly  checked  undertone : 
*  Why,  Miss  Dupuy  ?  You  will  at  least  tell  me,  before 
yon  dismiss  me  for  ever,  why  your  answer  is  so  absolutely 
final.' 

Nora  took  up  the  little  patch  of  crewel- work  she  had 
momentarily  dropped,  and  pretended,  with  rigid,  trembling 
fingers,  to  be  stitching  away  at  it  most  industriously^  '  1 
cannot  tell  you,'  she  answered  very  slowly,  after  a  mo- 
ment's long  hesitation :  *  don't  ask  me.  I  can  never  tell 
you.' 

Harry  rose  and  gazed  at  her  anxiously.  '  You  cannot 
mean  to  say,'  he  whispered,  bending  down  towards  her 
till  their  two  faces  almost  touched  one  another,  '  that  you 
are  going  wilUngly  to  marry  your  cousin,  for  whom  your 
father  intends  you?  Miss  Dupuy,  that  would  be  most 
unworthy  of  you  1  You  do  not  love  him  1  You  cannot 
love  him  1  * 

*  I  hate  him  1 '  Nora  answered  with  sudden  vehemence ; 
and  at  the  words  the  blood  rushed  hct  again  into  Harry's 
cheek,  and  he  whispered  once  more :  *  Then,  why  do  you 
say — why  do  you  say,  Nora,  you  will  never  marry  me  ? ' 

At  the  sound  of  her  name,  so  uttered  by  Harry  Noel's 
lips,  Nora  rose  and  stood  confronting  him  with  crimson 
face  and  trembling  fingers.  '  Because,  Mr.  Noel,'  she 
answered  slowly  and  with  emphasis,  '  an  impassable  barrier 
stands  for  ever  fixed  and  immovable  between  as  I ' 

'Can  she  mean,'  Harry  thought  to  himself  hastily, 
'  that  she  considers  my  position  in  Ufe  too  far  above  her 
own  to  allow  of  her  marrying  me  ? — 0  no  ;  impossible, 
impossible  1  A  lady's  a  lady  wherever  she  may  be ;  and 
nobody  could  ever  be  more  of  a  lady,  in  every  action  and 
every  movement,  than  Nora,  my  Nora.  She  shall  be  my 
Kora.  I  mtist  win  her  over.  But  I  can't  say  it  to  her ;  I 
ean't  answer  her  Uttle  doubt  as  to  her  perfect  equality 
with  me ;  it  would  be  liar  too  great  presumption  ev(\n  to 
suggest  it.* 

Well  it  was,  indeed,  for  Harry  Noel  that  he  didn't  hint 
•loud  in  the  mildest  form  this  unlucky  thought,  that  flashed 


'■i; 


I!!' 


)     ; 


r '  ■  t 

in 

1  ii 


IJ' 


MO 


XN  ALL  SHADES 


for  one  indivisible  second  of  time  across  the  mirror  of  his 
inner  consciousness;  if  he  had,  Heaven  only  knows 
whether  Nora  would  have  darted  awav  angrily  like  a 
wounded  tigress  from  the  polluted  veranda,  or  would  have 
stood  there  petrified  and  chained  to  the  spot,  like  a  Gorgon- 
struck  Greek  figure  in  pure  white  marble,  at  the  bare  idea 
that  any  creature  upon  God's  earth  should  even  for  a  pass- 
ing  moment  appear  to  consider  himself  superior  in  position 
to  a  single  daughter  of  the  fighting  Dupuys  of  Orange 
Grove,  Trinidad  I 

'  Then  you  dismiss  me  for  ever  ? '  Harry  asked,  quivering. 

Nora  cast  her  eyes  irresolutely  down  upon  the  ground 
and  faltered  for  a  second ;  then,  with  a  sudden  burst  of 
firmness,  she  answered  tremulously :  *  Yes,  for  ever.' 

At  the  word,  Harry  bounded  away  like  a  wounded  man 
from  her  side,  and  rushed  wildly  with  tempestuous  heart 
into  hia  own  bedroom.  As  for  Nora,  she  walked  quietly 
back,  white,  but  erect,  to  her  little  boudoir,  and  when  she 
reached  it,  astonished  Aunt  Glemmy  by  flinging  herself 
with  passionate  force  down  at  full  length  upon  the  big  old 
3ofa,  and  bursting  at  once  into  nncontroUable  floods  of 
silent,  hot,  and  burning  tears. 


CHAPTER   XXXn. 

That  same  afternoon,  Bosina  Fleming  met  Isaac  Pour- 
talds,  hanging  about  idly  below  the  shrubbery,  and  waiting 
to  talk  with  her,  by  appointment,  about  some  important 
business  she  had  to  discuss  with  him  of  urgent  necessity. 

'  Isaac,  me  fren','  Bosina  began  in  her  dawdling  tone, 
as  soon  as  they  had  interchanged  the  first  endearments  of 
negro  lovers,  '  I  send  for  you  to-day  to  ax  you  what  all  die 
talk  mean  about  de  naygur  risin'  ?  I  want  to  know  when 
dem  gwiiie  to  rise,  an'  what  de  debbU  dem  gwine  to  do 
when  dem  done  gone  risen  ? ' 

Isaac  smiled  a  sardonic  smile  of  superior  intelligence. 
'Missy  Bosie,  sweetheart,'  he  answered  evasively,  'le-ad^ 
doan'ft  understand  dem  ting  same  as  men  does.    Dis  is 


Ih'  ALL  SHADES 


221 


political  business,  I  tell  yon.  Le-adj  doan't  nel)l3er  bab 
no  call  to  go  an'  mix  himself  np  along  wit  politic  an* 
political  business.* 

'  But  I  tellin'  yon,  Isaac,  what  I  want  for  to  know  is 
abont  de  missy.  Mistah  Delgado,  him  tell  me  de  odder 
ebenin',  when  de  great  an'  terrible  day  ob  de  Lard  come, 
de  missy  an'  all  gwine  to  be  murdered.  So  I  come  for  to 
ax  you,  me  fren',  what  for  dem  want  to  go  aa'  kill  de  poor 
little  missy  ?  Ilim  doan't  nebber  do  no  harm  to  nobody. 
Him  is  good  little  lo-ady,  kind  httle  le-ady.  Why  for  you 
doan't  can  keep  him  alive  an'  let  him  go  witont  hurthi' 
him,  Isaac  ? ' 

PourtalSs  smiled  again,  this  time  a  more  diabolical  and 
sinister  smile,  as  though  he  were  concealing  something 
from  Bosina.  *  We  doan't  gwine  to  kill  her,'  he  answered 
hastily,  with  that  horrid  light  illumining  once  more  his 
cold  grey  eyes.  *  We  gwine  to  keep  de  women  alive,  ao- 
cordin*  to  de  word  ob  de  Lard  dat  he  spake  by  de  mout'  ob 
de  holy  prophet.  "  Have  dey  not  divided  de  prey  ?  To 
ebbery  man  a  damsel  or  two  :  to  Sisera,  a  prey  ob  divers 
colours."  What  dat  mean,  de  divers  colours,  Rosie  ?  Dat 
no  mean  you  an'  de  missy  ?  Ha,  ha,  ha !  you  an'  de  missy ! ' 

Bosina  started  back  a  little  surprised  at  this  naive  per- 
sonal effort  of  exegetical  research.  '  How  dat,  Isaac  ? '  she 
screamed  out  angrily.  '  You  lub  de  missy  1  You  doan't 
satisfied  wit  your  fren'  Rosie  ? ' 

Isaac  laughed  again.  '  Ho,  ho  I '  he  said ;  '  dat  make 
ou  jealous.  Missy  Rosie  ?  Ha,  ha,  dat  good  now  1  Pretty 
ittle  gal  for  true,  de  missy  !  Him  white  treat  so  soft  and 
smoove  1  Him  red  cheek  so  plump  an'  even !  What  you 
want  now  we  do  wit  him.  Missy  Rosie  ?  You  tink  me  gwine 
to  kill  him  when  him  so  pretty  ? ' 

Rosina  gazed  at  him  open-eyed  in  blank  astonishment. 
*You  doan't  must  kill  him,'  she  answered  stoutly.  •  Hub 
de  missy  well  meself  for  true,  Isaac.  If  you  kill  de  missy, 
I  doan't  nebber  gwine  to  speak  wit  you  any  more.  I  gwine 
to  tell  de  missy  aU  about  dis  ting  ob  Delgado'a,  I  tink,  to- 
morrow.' 

Isaac  stared  her  hard  in  the  face.  *  Yoa  doan't  dart, 
Bosie/  he  laid  doggedly. 

16 


S 


t  1  • 


rr- 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


The  girl  trembled  and  shuddered  slightly  before  his 
steady  gaze.  A  negro,  like  &n.  animal,  can  never  bear  to 
be  stared  at  straight  in  the  eyes.  After  a  moment's  restless 
■hrinking,  she  withdrew  her  glance  uneasily  from  his,  but 
Btill  muttered  to  herself  slow  ly :  *  I  tell  de  missy — I  tell  de 
missy  1 ' 

•  If  you  tell  de  missy,*  PourtalSs  answered  with  rough 
emphasis,  seizing  her  by  the  shoulder  with  his  savage  grasp, 
'  you  know  what  happen  to  you  ?  Delgado  send  debbil  an' 
duppy  to  walk  about  you  an'  creep  ober  you  in  de  dead  ob 
night  ebbery  ebenin',  an'  chatter  obcah  to  you,  an'  tear  de 
heart  out  ob  you  when  you  lyin'  sleepin'.  If  you  tell  de 
missy,  you  know  what  happen  to  me  ?  Dem  will  take  me 
down  to  de  big  court-house  in  Wes'moreland  village,  sit  on 
me  so  try  me  for  rebel,  cut  me  up  into  Httle  pieces,  burn 
me  dead,  an'  trow  de  asliea  for  rubbish  into  de  harbour. 
Den  I  come,  when  I  is  duppy,  sit  at  de  head  ob  your  pillow 
ebbery  ebenin',  grin  at  you,  jabber  at  you,  ho,  ho,  ho ;  ha, 
ha,  ha :  show  you  de  holes  where  dem  cut  my  body  up, 
show  you  de  blood  where  de  wounds  is  bleedin',  make  you 
scream  an'  cry  an'  wish  youself  dead,  till  you  dribben  to 
trow  youself  down  de  well  wit  horror,  or  poison  youself 
for  fright  wit  berry  ob  machineel  bush  I  * 

This  short  recital  of  penalties  to  come  was  simple  and 
ludicrous  enough  in  its  own  matter,  but  duly  enforced  by 
Isaac's  horrid  shrugs  and  hideous  grimaces,  as  well  as  by 
the  iron  clutch  with  which  he  dug  his  firm-gripped  fingers, 
nails  and  all,  deep  into  her  flesh,  to  emphasise  his  predic- 
tion, it  affected  the  superstitious  negro  girl  a  thousand 
times  more  than  the  most  deliberately  awful  civilised  im> 
precation  could  possibly  have  done.  *  You  doan't  would  do 
dat,  Isaac,'  she  cried  all  breathless,  struggling  in  vain  to 
free  her  arm  from  the  fierce  grip  hat  held  it  resistlessly — 
•  you  doan't  would  do  dat,  me  fren'  ?  You  doan't  would 
come  when  you  is  duppy  to  haunt  me  an'  to  frighten  me  ? ' 

•  I  would  I  •  Isaac  answered  firmly,  with  close-pressed 
lips,  inhuman  mulatto  fashion  (for  when  there  is  a  devil  in 
the  mulatto  nature,  it  is  a  devil  more  utterly  diabolical 
than  any  known  to  either  white  or  black  men :  it  combines 
the  dispassionate  intellectual  power  of  the  one  with  the 


XN  ALL  SHADES 


low  etmning  and  savage  moral  code  of  the  other).  '  I 
would  hound  you  to  deaf,  Kosie,  an*  kill  you  witout  pity. 
For  if  you  tell  de  missy  about  dis,  dem  will  cut  your  fren* 
all  up  into  little  pieces,  I  tellin'  you,  le-ady.' 

'Doan't  call  me  le-ady,'  Eosina  said,  melting  at  the 
formal  address  and  seizing  his  hand  penitently :  '  call  me 
Bosie,  call  me  Kosie.  0  Isaac,  I  doau't  will  tell  de  missy, 
if  you  doau't  hke ;  but  you  promise  me  for  true  you  nebber 
g^vine  to  take  him  an'  kill  him.' 

Isaac  smiled  again  the  sinister  smile.  '  I  promise,'  ho 
said,  with  a  curious  emphasis ; '  I  doan't  gwine  to  kill  him, 
Bosie !    When  I  take  him,  I  no  will  kill  him ! ' 

Bosina  hesitated  a  moment,  then  she  asked  shortly : 
'  What  day  you  tiuk  Delgado  gwine  at  last  to  hab  him 
risin'  ?  * 

The  mulatto  laughed  a  scornful  little  laugh  of  supreme 
mockery.  *  Delgado's  risin'  1 '  he  cried,  with  a  sneer — 
'  Delgado's  risin'  I  You  tink,  den,  Bosie,  dis  is  Delgado's 
risin'  I  You  tink  we  gwine  to  risk  our  own  life,  black  men 
an'  brown  men,  so  make  Delgado  de  king  ob  Trinidad !  Ha, 
ha,  ha !  dat  is  too  good,  now.  No,  no,  me  fren' ;  dis  doan'i 
at  all  Delgado's  risin'  I  You  tink  we  gwine  to  hand  ober 
de  whole  island  to  a  pack  ob  dam  common  contemptful 
naygur  fellow !  Ha,  ha.  ha !  Le-ady  doan't  nebber  under- 
stand politic  an'  political  business.  Hd,  Bosie,  I  tell  you 
de  trut' :  when  we  kill  de  buckra  clean  out  ob  de  island,  I 
gwine  meself  to  be  de  chief  man  in  all  Trinidad  ! '  And  as 
he  spoke,  he  drew  himself  up  proudly  to  his  full  height, 
and  put  one  hand  behind  his  back  in  his  most  distinguished 
and  magnificent  attitude. 

Bosina  looked  up  at  him  with  profound  admiration. 
'  You  is  clebber  gentleman  for  certain,  Isaac,'  she  cried  in 
unfeigned  reverence  for  his  mental  superiority.  'You 
let  Delgado  make  de  naygur  rise ;  den,  when  dem  done 
gone  risen,  you  gwine  to  eat  de  chestnut  yourself  him  pull 
out  ob  de  fire  witout  bum  your  fingers  I ' 

Isaac  nodded  sagaciously.  'Le-ady  begin  to  under- 
stand politic  a  Httle,'  he  said  condescendingly.  '  Dat  what 
for  dem  begin  to  ax  dis  time  for  de  fomale  suffrage.' 

Groteti^ue,  all  of  it,  if  you  forget  that  each  of  thes* 


4  a 


224 


/;V  ALL   bUADES 


childish  creatures  is  the  possessor  of  a  sharp  cntlass  and  a 
pair  of  stout  sinewy  arais,  as  hard  as  iron,  wherewith  to 
wield  it:  terrible  and  horrible  boyond  belief  if  only  you 
ro-.nember  that  one  awful  clement  of  possible  tragedy  en- 
closed within  it.  The  recklessness,  the  folly,  the  infantile 
misapprehension  of  mischievous  cnildren,  incongruously 
combined  with  the  strength,  the  passions,  the  firm  purpose 
of  fierce  and  powerful  full-grown  men.  An  infant  Hercules, 
with  superadded  malevolence — the  muscles  of  a  gorilla,  with 
the  brain  of  a  cruel  schoolboy — that  is  what  the  negro  is 
in  his  worst  and  ugliest  moments  of  vindictive  anger. 

*  You  doan't  tell  me  yet,'  Rosina  said  again,  pouting, 
after  a  short  pause,  '  wliat  day  you  gwine  to  begin  your 
war  ob  de  delibberance  ?  ' 

Isaac  pondered.  If  he  told  her  the  whole  truth,  she 
would  probably  reveal  it.  On  the  other  hand,  if  he  didn't 
mention  Wednesdaj  at  all,  she  would  probably  hear  some 
vague  buzzing  rumour  about  some  Wednesday  mifixed, 
from  the  other  conspirators.  So  he  temporised  and  con- 
ciliated. *  Well,  Bosie,'  he  said  in  a  hesitating  voice,  '  if  I 
tell  you  de  trut',  you  will  not  betray  me  ?  *  Rosie  nodded. 
'  Den  de  great  an'  terrible  day  ob  de  Lard  is  comin*  true  on 
Wednesday  week,  Rosie  ! ' 

*  Wednesday  week,'  Rosina  echoed.  *  Den,  on  Wed- 
nesday week,  I  gwine  to  make  de  n.ussy  go  across  to 
Mistah  Hawtorn's ! ' 

Isaac  smiled.  His  precautions,  then,  had  clearly  not 
been  unheeded.  You  can't  trust  le-ady  with  high  political 
secrets.  He  smiled  again,  and  muttered  complacently: 
*  Quite  right,  quite  right,  Rosie.' 

<  When  can  I  see  you  agam,  me  darlin'  ? '  Bosie  in- 
quired  anxiously. 

Isaac  bethought  him  in  haste  of  a  capital  scheme  for 
removing  Rosina  to-morrow  evening  from  the  scene  of 
operations.  *  You  can  get  away  to-morrow  ? '  he  asked 
with  a  cunning  leer.  '  About  eight  o'clock  at  me  house* 
Bosie?' 

Bosie  reflected  a  moment,  and  then  nodded.  '  Aunt 
Clemray  will  do  the  missy  hair,'  she  answered  slowly.  *  I 
oom§  down  at  de  time,  Isaac. 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


225 


13  and  a 
iwith  to 
nly  you 
^edy  en- 
infantile 
jruously 
purpose 
lercules, 
ilia,  with 
negro  ia 
;er. 

pouting, 
jin  your 

ruth,  she 
be  didn't 
3ar  some 
unfixed, 
and  con- 


iice, 


if  I 


B  nodded, 
i*  true  on 

on  ^Yod- 
icross  to 

early  not 
I  political 
lacently : 

Rosie  in- 

heme  for 

scene  of 

he  asked 

le  housOf 

Aunt 
owly.    ♦! 


Isaac  laughed  again.  •  Perhaps,'  he  said,  *  I  doan't 
can  get  av/ay  so  early,  me  fren',  from  de  political  meetin' 
— dar  is  political  meetin'  to-morrow  ebenin'  down  at 
Delgado's  ;  but  anyhow,  you  wait  till  ten  o'clock.  Sooner 
or  later,  I  is  sure  to  come  dar.' 

Kosina  gave  him  her  hand  reluctantly,  and  glided  away 
back  to  the  house  in  a  stealthy  fasliion.  As  soon  as  she 
was  gone,  Pourtal^s  flung  his  head  back  in  a  wild  paroxysm 
of  savage  laughter.  '  Ho,  ho,  ho  I '  he  cried.  '  De  missy, 
de  missy  1  Ha,  ha,  I  get  Rosina  out  ob  de  road  anyliow. 
Him  doan't  gwine  to  tell  nuffin'  now,  an'  him  clean  off  do 
scent  ob  de  fun  altogedder  to-morrow  ebenin' !  Pretty 
little  gal,  dat  white  missy  I  Him  sweet  Httle  troat,  so  soft 
and  shinin'  1 ' 


CHAPTER  XXXni. 

At  the  dinner  that  evening,  Macfariane,  the  Scotch  doctor, 
took  in  Nora ;  while  Harry  Noel  had  handed  over  to  his 
care  a  dowager  plaiHeress  from  a  neighbouring  estate  ;  so 
Harry  had  no  nefid  n  talk  any  further  to  his  pretty  Uttle 
hostess  during  thai  mamorable  Tuesday.  On  Wednesday 
morning  he  had  made  up  his  mind  he  would  find  some 
excuse  to  get  away  from  this  awkward  position  in  Mr. 
Dupuy's  household  ;  for  it  was  clearly  impossible  for  him 
to  remain  there  any  longer,  after  he  had  again  atiked  and 
been  rejected  by  Nora  ;  but  of  course  he  couldn't  go  so 
suddenly  before  the  dinner  to  be  given  in  his  honour  ;  and 
ho  waited  on,  impatiently  and  sullenly. 

Tom  Dupuy  was  there  too ;  and  even  Mr.  Theodore 
Dupuy  himself,  who  knew  the  whole  secret  of  Harry's 
black  blood,  and  therefore  regarded  him  now  as  almost 
beyond  the  pale  of  human  sympathy,  couldn't  help 
noticing  to  himself  that  his  nepliew  Tom  really  seemed 
quite  unnecessarily  anxious  to  drag  this  unfortunate  young 
man  Noel  into  some  sort  of  open  rupture.  •  Very  ill-advised 
of  Tom,'  Mr.  Dupuy  thought  to  himself;  'and  verv  bad 
manners,  too,  for  a  Dupuy  of  Trinidad.  He  ought  to  know 
well  enough  that  whatever  the  young  niun'ti  undesirablf 


^'■. 


(^ 


911  nr  ALL  8EADE8 

antect'dents  may  liappon  to  be,  as  long  as  be'B  here  in  the 
position  of  a  guest,  be  ought  at  least  to  be  treated  with 
common  decency  and  common  politeness.  T'>-morrow,  we 
shall  manage  to  hunt  up  some  excuse,  or  give  him  some 
efifectual  hint,  which  will  have  the  result  of  clearing  him 
bodily  off  the  premises.  Till  then,  Tom  ought  to  en- 
deavour to  treat  him,  as  far  as  possible,  in  every  way  like 
a  perfect  equal. 

Even  during  the  time  while  the  ladies  still  remained 
in  the  dining-room,  Tom  Dupuy  couldn't  avoid  making 
several  severe  hits,  as  he  considered  them,  at  Harry  Noel 
from  the  opposite  side  of  the  hospitable  table.  Harry  had 
happened  once  to  venture  on  some  fairly  sympathetic 
commonplace  remark  to  his  dowaf,'Gr  planteross  about  the 
planters  having  been  quite  ruined  by  emancipation,  when 
Tom  Dupuy  fell  upon  him  bodily,  and  called  out  with  an 
unconcealed  sneer  :  *  Ruined  by  emancipation — ruuied  by 
emancipation !  That  just  shows  how  much  you  know 
about  the  matter,  to  talk  of  the  planters  being  ruined  by 
emancipation  I  If  you  knew  anything  at  all  of  what  you're 
talking  about,  you'd  know  that  it  wasn't  emancipation  in 
the  least  that  ruined  us,  but  your  plaguy  parliament  doing 
away  with  the  differential  duties.' 

Harry  bit  his  lip,  and  glanced  across  the  table  at  the 
yomig  planter  with  a  quiet  smile  of  superiority ;  but  the 
only  word  he  permitted  himself  to  utter  was  the  one  harm- 
less and  neutral  word  '  Indeed  ! ' 

'0  yes,  you  may  say  "Indeed"  if  you  like/  Tom 
Dupu^  retorted  warmly.  •  That's  just  the  way  of  all  you 
conceited  English  people.  You  think  you  know  such  a 
precious  lot  about  the  whole  subject,  and  you  really  and 
truly  know  in  the  end  just  less  than  absolutely  nothing.' 

'  Pardon  me,'  Harry  answered  carelessly,  with  hia 
wine-glass  poised  for  a  moment  half  lifted  in  his  hand. 
*I  admit  most  unreservedly  that  you  know  a  great  deal 
more  than  I  do  about  the  differential  duties,  whatever  they 
may  be,  for  I  never  so  much  as  heard  their  very  name  in 
all  my  life  until  the  present  moment.* 

Tom  Dupuy  smiled  a  satisfied  smile  of  complete 
triumph.    '  I  thought  as  much,'  he  said  exultantly ;  '  I 


nr  ALL  snADsa 


in  the 

with 
w,  we 

some 
I  him 
,0  en- 
ly  like 

aained 
laking 
y  Noel 
ry  bad 
stthetio 
)ut  the 
,  when 
rith  an 
lied  by 
,  know 
ned  by 
,  you're 
ition  in 
it  doing 

at  the 
}ut  the 
harm- 
Tom 
all  you 
such  a 
ly  and 
ling." 
ith  hia 
s  hand, 
at  deal 
irer  they 
name  in 

omplete 
tly;  •! 


knew  yon  hadn't.  That's  just  the  way  of  all  English 
people.  They  know  nothing  at  all  about  the  most  im- 
portant and  essential  matters,  and  yet  tiiuy  venture  to  talk 
about  them  for  all  the  world  as  if  they  knew  as  muoh  as 
we  do  about  the  whole  subject.' 

*  Really,'  Harry  answered  with  a  ^ood-hnmoured  smile, 
'  I  DEincied  a  man  might  be  fairly  well  mformed  about  things 
In  general,  and  yet  never  have  heard  in  his  pristine  inno- 
cence of  the  diiTerential  duties.  I  haven't  the  very  faintest 
idea  myself,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  of  what  they  are. 
Perhaps  you  will  be  good  enough  to  lighten  my  darkness.' 

*  What  they  are  I '  Tom  Dupuy  ejaculated  in  pious 
horror.  *  They  aren't  anything.  TJiey're  done  away  with. 
They've  ceased  to  exist  long  ago.  You  and  the  other 
plagupr  English  people  took  them  off,  and  ruined  the 
oolomes ;  and  now  you  don't  as  much  as  know  what  you've 
done,  or  whether  they're  existing  still  or  done  away  with  I ' 

*  Tom,  my  boy,'  Mr.  Theodore  Dupuy  interposed 
blandly,  'you  really  mustn't  hold  Mr.  Noel  personally 
responsible  for  all  the  undoubted  shortcomings  of  the 
English  nation  I  You  must  remember  that  his  father  is, 
like  ourselves,  a  West  Indian  proprietor,  and  that  the 
iniquitous  proceedings  with  reference  to  the  diiTerential 
duties — which  nobody  can  for  a  moment  pretend  to  justify 
— ^ii^uredhim  every  bit  as  much  as  they  injured  ourselves.' 

*  But  what  are  the  differential  duties?'  Harry  whispered 
to  his  next  neighbour  but  one,  the  Scotch  (X)otor.  '  I 
never  heard  of  fJbem  in  my  life,  I  assure  you,  tiU  this  very 
minute.' 

'Well,  ye  ken,'  Dr.  Macfarlane  responded  slowly, 
*  there  was  a  time  when  ehoogar  from  the  British  colonies 
was  admeetted  into  Britain  at  a  less  duty  than  shoogar 
from  Ouba  or  other  foreign  pcisessions ;  and  at  last,  the 
3Jritish  consumer  tuke  the  tax  off  the  foreign  shoogar, 
and  cheapened  them  all  alike  in  the  British  market. 
Vera  ^uid,  of  coarse,  for  the  British  consumer,  but  clean 
ruination  and  nothing  else  for  the  Treenidad  planter.' 

For  the  moment  the  conversation  changed,  but  not  the 
(imouldering  war  between  the  two  belligerents.  Whatever 
iubjeot  Harry  Noel  happened  to  start  during  that  unlucky 


i  ' 


l! 


Mi 

!     M 


w 


238 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


(linner,  Tom  Dupuy,  watching  him  closely,  pounced  down 
upon  him  at  once  like  an  owl  on  the  hover,  and  tore  him  to 
pieces  with  prompt  activity.  Harry  bore  it  all  as  good- 
naturedly  as  he  could,  though  his  temper  was  by  no  means 
naturally  a  forbearing  one  ;  but  he  didn't  wish  to  come  to 
an  open  rupture  with  Tom  Dupuy  at  his  uncle's  table, 
especially  aftor  that  morning's  occurrences. 

As  soon  as  the  ladies  had  left  the  room,  however,  Tom 
Dupuy  drew  up  his  chair  so  as  exactly  to  face  Harry,  and 
began  to  pour  out  for  himself  in  quick  succession  glass  after 
glass  of  his  uncle's  very  fiery  sherry,  which  he  tossed  off 
with  noisy  hilarity.  The  more  he  drank,  the  louder  his 
voice  became,  and  the  hotter  his  pursuit  of  Harry  Noel. 
At  last,  when  Mr.  Theodore  Dupuy,  now  really  alarmed  as 
to  what  his  nephew  was  going  to  say  next,  ordered  in  the 
coffee  prematurely,  to  prevent  an  open  outbreak  by  rejoining 
the  ladies,  Tom  walked  deliberately  over  to  the  sideboard 
and  took  out  a  large  square  decanter,  from  which  he  poured 
a  good-sized  liqueur-ghissful  of  some  pale  Uquid  for  himself 
and  another  for  Harry. 

•  There  ! '  ho  cried  boisterously.  *  Just  you  try  that, 
Noel,  will  you  ?  There's  liquor  for  you  1  That's  th^  real 
old  Pimento  Valley  rum,  the  best  in  the  island,  double  dis- 
tilled, and  thirty  years  in  bottle.  You  don't  taste  any  liogo 
about  that,  Mr.  Englishman,  eh,  do  you  ?  * 

•  Any  what  ? '  Harry  inquired  politely,  lifting  up  the 
glass  and  sipping  a  little  of  the  contents  out  of  pure 
courtesy,  for  neat  rum  is  not  in  itself  a  very  enticing  beve- 
rage to  any  other  than  West  Indian  palates. 

*  Any  hogo,'  Tom  Dupuy  repeated  loudly  and  insolently 
— *  hogo,  hogo.  I  suppose,  now,  you  mean  to  say  you  don't 
even  know  what  hogo  is,  do  you  ?  Never  heard  of  hogo  ? 
Precious  affectation  t  Don't  understand  plain  language  f 
Yah,  rubbish  1 ' 

*  Why,  no,  certainly,'  Harry  assented  as  calmly  as  ho  was 
able  ;  *  I  never  before  did  hear  of  hogo,  I  assure  you.  I 
haven't  the  slightest  idea  what  it  is,  or  whether  I  ought 
rather  to  admire  or  to  deplore  its  supposed  absence  in  this 
very  excellent  old  rum  of  yourn.' 


*Eogo'a    French/    Tom    Dupuy    asserit'd 


doiiyfedly. 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


WK 


ijeilly. 


•  hogo*B  French,  and  I  should  have  thought  you  ought  to 
have  known  it.  Everybody  in  Trinidad  knows  what  hogo 
is.  It's  French,  I  tell  you.  Didn't  you  ever  learn  any 
French  at  the  school  you  went  to,  Noel  ?  ' 

•  Excuse  me,'  Harry  said,  flushing  up  a  little,  for  Tom 
Dupuy  had  isked  the  question  very  otfensively.  •  It  is  not 
French.  I  know  enough  of  French  at  least  to  say  that 
such  a  word  as  liO(jo,  whatever  it  may  mean,  couldn't  pos- 
sibly be  French  for  anything.' 

*  As  my  nephew  pronounces  it,'  Mr.  Dupuy  put  in  diplo- 
matically, *  you  may  perhaps  have  some  difficulty  in  recog- 
nising its  meaning ;  but  it's  our  common  West  Indian  cor- 
ruption, Mr.  Noel,  of  haut  gotlt — haiU  goilt,  you  under- 
stand me — precisely  so ;  haut  goilt,  or  li/ujo,  being  the 
strong  and  somewiiat  offensive  molasses-like  tlavour  ol'  new 
rum,  before  it  has  been  nioUowed,  as  this  of  ours  has  been, 
by  being  kept  for  years  in  the  wood  and  in  botde.' 

*  Oh,  ah,  that's  all  very  well  I  I  suppose  i/ou're  going 
to  turn  against  me  now.  Uncle  Theodore,'  Tom  Dupuy  ex- 
claimed angrily — he  was  reaching  the  quarrelsome  stage  of 
incipient  drunkenness.  '  I  suppose  you  must  go  and  make 
fun  of  me,  too,  for  my  French  pronunciation  as  well  as  this 
fine-spoken  Mr.  Noel  here.  But  I  don't  care  a  pin  about 
it,  or  about  either  of  you,  either.  Who's  Mr.  Noel,  I  should 
like  to  know,  that  he  should  come  here,  with  his  fine  new- 
fangled English  ways,  setting  himself  up  to  be  better  than 
we  are,  and  teaching  us  to  improve  our  French  pronunci- 
ation ? — Oh  yes,  it's  all  very  fine ;  but  what  does  he  want 
to  go  stopping  in  our  houses  for,  with  our  own  ladies,  and 
all  that,  and  then  going  and  visitmg  with  coloured  rubbish, 
that  I  wouldn't  touch  with  a  pair  of  tongs — the  woolly - 
headed  niggers! — that's  what  I  wmt  to  know,  Uncle 
Theodore  ?  * 

Mr  Dupuy  and  Harry  rose  together.  'Tom,  Tom  I' 
Mr.  Dupuy  cried  warningly,  '  you  are  quite  forgetting 
yourself.  Remember  that  this  gentleman  is  my  guest,  and  is 
here  to-day  by  my  invitation.  How  dare  you  say  such 
things  as  that  to  my  own  guest,  sir,  at  my  own  table  ? 
You  insult  mo,  sir,  you  insult  me ! ' 

*  I  think,'  Harry  interrupted,  white  witli  augur,  '  I  h«d 


■(  ■ 


il  1 


111 


330 


nt  ALL  SBADEB 


better  withdraw  at  once,  Mr.  Dupuy,  before  things  gc  any 
farther,  from  a  room  where  I  am  evidently,  quite  w:,thoat 
any  intention  on  my  own  part,  a  cause  of  turmoil  and 
disagreement.' 

He  moved  hastily  towards  the  open  window,  whioh 
gave  upon  the  lawn,  where  the  ladies  were  strolling,  after 
the  fashion  of  the  country,  in  the  silvery  moonlight,  among 
the  tropical  shrubbery.  But  Tom  Dupuy  jumped  up  before 
him  and  stood  in  his  way,  now  drunk  with  wine  and  rum 
and  insolence  and  temper,  and  blocked  his  road  to  the 
open  window. 

•  No,  no,'  he  cried,  *  you  shan't  go  yet ; — I'll  tell  you 
all  the  reason  why,  gentlemen.  He  shall  hear  the  truth. 
I'll  take  the  vanity  and  nonsense  out  of  himl  He's  a 
brown  man  himself,  nothing  but  a  brown  man  I — Do  you 
know,  you  fine  fellow  you,  tnat  you're  only,  after  all,  a  con- 
founded woolly-headed  brown  mulatto  ?  You  are,  sir  I  you 
are,  I  tell  you  1  Look  at  your  hands,  you  damned  nigger, 
look  at  your  hands,  I  say,  if  ever  you  doubt  it.' 

Harry  Noel's  proud  lip  curled  contemptuously  as  he 
pushed  the  half-tipsy  planter  aside  with  his  elbow,  and 
began  to  stride  angrily  away  towards  the  moonlit  shrubbery. 
•  I  dare  say  I  am,'  he  answered  coolly,  for  he  was  always 
truthful,  and  it  flashed  across  his  mind  in  the  space  of  a 
second  that  Tom  Dupuy  was  very  possibly  right  enough. 
'  But  if  I  am,  my  good  fellow,  I  will  no  longer  inflict  my 
company,  I  tell  you  npon  persons  who,  I  see,  are  evidently 
so  httle  desirous  of  sharing  it  an^  further.' 

*  Yes,  yes,*  Tom  Dupuy  exclaimed  madly,  planting  him- 
self once  more  like  a  fool  in  front  of  the  angry  and  retreat- 
ing Englishman, '  he's  a  brown  man,  a  mulatto,  a  coloured 
fellow,  gentlemen,  own  cousin  of  that  infernal  nigger 
scamp,  Isaac  FourtalSs,  whose  woolly  head  I'd  like  to 
knock  this  minute  against  his  own  woolly  head,  the  insolent 
upstart  I  Why,  gentlemen,  do  you  know  who  his  mother 
was  ?  Do  you  know  who  this  fine  Lady  Noel  was  that  he 
wants  to  come  over  us  with  ?  She  was  nothing  better,  I 
swear  to  you  solemnly,  than  a  common  brown  wench  over 
in  Barbadoes ! ' 

Hftrry  Noil's  fA&t  grow  livid  purple  with  that  foul 


IN  ALL  8EADE8 


instilt,  as  he  leaped  like  a  wild  beast  at  the  roaring  West 
Indian,  and  with  one  fierce  blow  in  the  centre  of  his  chest, 
sent  him  reeling  backward  upon  the  floor  at  his  feet  like  a 
senseless  lump  of  dead  matter.  '  Hound  and  cur  I  how 
dar J  you  ?  '  he  hissed  out  hoarsely,  placing  the  tip  of  his 
foot  contemptuously  on  the  fallen  planter's  crumpled  shirt- 
front.  *  How  dare  you  ? — how  dare  you  ?  Say  what  you 
will  of  me,  myself,  you  miserable  blackguard — but  my 
mother  I  my  mother  l'  And  then  suddenly  recollectmg 
himself,  with  a  profound  bow  to  the  astonished  company,  ho 
hurried  out,  hatless  and  liot,  on  to  the  darkling  shrubbery, 
casting  the  dust  of  Orange  Grove  off  his  feet  half  instinc- 
tively behind  liiiii  as  he  went. 

Next  moment  a  soft  voice  sounded  low  beside  him,  to 
his  intense  astonishment.  As  he  strode  alone  across  the 
dark  lawn,  Nora  Dupuy,  who  had  seen  the  whole  incident 
from  the  neiglibouring  shrubbery,  glided  out  to  his  side 
from  the  shadow  of  the  star-apple  tree  and  whispered  a 
few  words  earnestly  in  his  ear.  Harry  Noel,  still  white 
with  passion  and  trembling  in  every  muscle  hke  a  hunted 
animal,  could  not  but  stop  and  listen  to  them  eagerly  even 
in  that  supreme  moment  of  rijj^liteous  indignation.  •  Thank 
you,  Mr.  Noel,'  she  said  simply — *  thank  you,  thank  you  I  * 


I. 


nigger 
ike  to 
isolent 
lother 
Ihat  he 
ptter,  I 
fch  over 

lat  foul 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

The  gentlemen  in  the  dining-room  stood  looking  at  one 
another  in  blank  dismay  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  Dr. 
]Macfarlane  broke  the  breathless  silence  by  saying  out  loud, 
with  his  broad  Scotch  bluntness :  •  Ye're  a  fool,  Tom  Dupuy 
— a  vera  fine  fool,  ye  are,  of  the  first  watter ;  and  I'm  not 
sorry  the  yo'mg  Englishman  knocked  ye  doon  and  gave  ye 
a  lesson,  for  speaking  ill  against  his  own  mother.' 

*  Where  has  he  gone  ?  '  Dick  Castello,  the  Governor's 
aide-de-camp,  asked  quickly,  as  Tom  picked  himself  up  with 
a  sheepish,  awkward,  drunken  look.  '  He  can't  sleep  here 
to-night  now,  you  know,  and  he'll  have  to  sleep  some- 
where or  other,  Macfailane,  won't  he  ? ' 


s 


tst 


nr  ALL  SHADES 


*  Run  after  him,'  the  doctor  said,  '  and  talc*  him  to 
your  own  house,  I  tell  ye.  Not  one  of  thuae  precious 
Treenidad  folk '11  stir  liand  or  fute  to  befriend  him  any- 
how, now  they've  once  been  told  he's  a  puir  brown  body.' 

Dick  Castello  took  up  his  hat  and  ran  as  fast  as  he 
could  go  after  Harry  Noel.  He  caught  him  up,  breathless, 
half-way  down  to  the  gate  of  the  estate  ;  for  Harry,  though 
he  had  gone  oflf  hurriedly  without  hat  or  coat,  was  walldng 
alone  down  the  main  road  coolly  enough  now,  trying  to 
look  and  feel  within  himself  as  thougli  nothing  at  all  un- 
usual in  any  way  had  happened. 

*  Where  are  you  going  to,  Noel '? '  Dick  Castello  asked, 
in  a  friendly  voice. — '  By  Jove!  I'm  jolly  glad  you  knocked 
that  fellow  down,  and  tried  to  teach  him  a  little  manners, 
though  he  is  old  Dupuy's  nephew.  But  of  course  you 
can't  stop  there  to-night.  What  do  you  mean  now  to  do 
with  yourself  ? ' 

*  I  shall  go  to  Hawthorn's,'  Harry  answered,  quietly. 

*  Better  not  go  there,'  Dick  Castello  urged,  ttking  him 
gently  by  the  shoulder.  •  If  you  do,  you  know,  it  '11  look 
as  if  you  wanted  to  give  a  handle  to  Tom  Dupuy  and  break 
openly  with  the  whole  lot  of  them.  Tom  Dupuy  insulted 
vou  abominably,  and  you  couldn't  have  done  anything  else 
but  knock  him  down,  of  course,  my  dear  fellow,  and  he 
needed  it  jolly  well  too,  we  all  know  perfectly.  But  don't 
let  it  seem  as  if  you  were  going  to  quarrel  with  the  whole 
lot  of  us.  Come  home  to  my  house  now  at  Savannah 
Garden.  I'll  walk  straight  over  there  with  you  and  have 
a  room  got  ready  for  you  at  once  ;  and  then  I'll  go  back  to 
Orange  Grove  for  Mrs.  Castello,  and  bring  across  as  much 
of  your  luggage  as  I  can  in  my  carriage — at  least,  as  much 
as  you'll  need  for  the  present.' 

*Very  well,  Captain  Castello,'  Harry  Noel  answered 
submissively.  *  It's  very  kind  of  you  to  take  me  in.  I'U 
go  with  you ;  you  know  best  about  it.  But  hang  it  all, 
vou  know,  upon  my  word  I  expect  the  fellow  may  have 
been  telling  the  truth  after  all,  and  I  dare  say  I  really  am 
what  these  fools  of  Trinidad  people  call  a  brown  man. 
Did  ever  you  hear  such  infernal  nonsense  ?  CaUing  me  a 
brown  maal    Ae  if  it  ever  mattered  twopence  to  my 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


233 


sensible  person  whether  a  man  was  black,  brown,  white, 
or  yellow,  as  long  as  he's  not  such  a  confounded  cad  and 
boor  as  that  roaring  tipsy  lout  of  a  young  Dupuy  fellow  I ' 

So  Harry  Noel  went  that  Tuesday  night  to  Captain 
Castello's  at  Savannah  Garden,  and  slept,  or  rather  lay 
awake,  there  till  Wednesday  morning — the  morning  of  the 
day  set  aside  by  Louis  Delgado  and  Isaac  Pourtalds  for 
their  great  rising  and  general  massacre. 

As  for  Nora,  she  went  up  to  her  own  boudoir  as  soon 
as  the  guests  had  gone — they  didn't  stay  long  after  this 
awlcward  occurrence — and  threw  herself  down  once  more 
on  the  big  sofa,  and  cried  as  if  her  heart  would  burst  for 
very  anguish  and  humiliation. 

He  had  knocked  down  Tom  Dupuy.  That  was  a  good 
thing  as  fax  as  it  went  I  For  that  at  least,  if  for  nothing 
else,  Nora  was  duly  grateful  to  him.  But  had  she  gone 
too  far  in  thanking  him  ?  Would  he  accept  it  as  a  proof 
that  she  meant  him  to  reopen  the  closed  question  between 
them  ?  Nora  hoped  not,  for  that — that  at  any  rate  was 
now  finally  settled.  She  could  never,  never,  never  marry 
a  brown  man  !  And  yet,  how  much  nicer  and  bolder  he 
was  than  all  the  other  men  she  saw  around  her  1  Nora 
liked  him  even  for  his  faults.  That  proud,  frank,  pas- 
sionate Noel  temperament  of  his,  which  many  girls  would 
have  regarded  with  some  fear  and  no  little  misgiving, 
exactly  suited  her  West  Indian  prejudices  and  her  West- 
Indian  ideal.  His  faults  were  the  faults  of  a  proud  aris- 
tocracy, and  it  was  entirely  as  a  member  of  a  proud  aris- 
tocracy herself  that  Nora  Dupuy  lived  and  moved  and  had 
her  being.  A  man  like  Edward  Hawthorn  she  could  like 
and  respect ;  but  a  man  like  Harry  Noel  she  could  admire 
and  love — if  he  were  only  not  a  brown  manl  What  a 
terrible  cross-arrangement  of  fate  that  the  one  man  who 
seemed  otherwise  exactly  to  suit  her  girlish  ideal,  should 
happen  to  belong  remotely  to  the  one  race  between  which 
and  her  own  there  existed  in  her  mind  for  ever  and  ever  an 
absolutely  fixed  and  irremovable  bui  rier ! 

So  Nora,  too,  lay  awake  all  night ;  and  all  night  long 
she  thought  but  of  one  thing  and  one  person — the  solitary 
man  she  could  never,  never,  never,  eonoeivably  ^aarrjr. 


i 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


And  Harry,  for  his  part,  thinking  to  himself,  on  hifl 
tumbled  pillow,  at  Savannah  Gaiden,  said  to  his  own 
heart  over  and  over  and  over  again  :  *  I  shall  love  her  for 
ever ;  I  can  never  while  I  live  leave  off  loving  her.  But 
after  what  occurred  yesterday  and  last  night,  I  mustn't 
dream  for  worlds  of  asking  her  a  third  time.  I  know  now 
what  it  was  she  meant  when  she  spoke  about  the  barrier 
between  us.  Poor  girl !  how  very  wild  of  her !  How 
strange  that  she  should  think  in  her  OAvn  soul  a  Dupuy  of 
Trinidad  superior  in  position  to  one  of  the  ancient  Lincoln* 
shire  Noels  I ' 

For  pride  always  sees  everything  from  its  own  point  of 
view  alone,  and  never  for  a  moment  succeeds  in  envisaging 
to  itself  the  pride  of  others  as  being  equally  reasonable  and 
natural  with  ita  own. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

Twilight,  the  beautiful  serene  tropical  twilight,  was  just 
gathering  on  Wednesday  evening,  when  the  negroes  of  all 
the  surrounding  country,  fresh  from  their  daily  work  in  the 
cane-pieces,  with  cutlasses  and  sticks  and  cudgels  in  their 
hands,  began  to  assemble  silently  around  Louis  Delgado's 
hut,  in  the  bend  of  the  mountains  beside  the  great  clump 
of  feathery  cabbage-palms.  A  terrible  motley  crowd  they 
looked,  bareheaded  and  bare  of  foot,  many  of  them  with 
their  powerful  black  arms  wholly  naked,  and  thrust  loosely 
through  the  wide  sleeve-hole^of  the  coarse  sack-hke  shirt 
which,  with  a  pair  of  ragged  trousers,  formed  their  sole 
bodily  covering.  Most  of  the  malcontents  were  men,  young 
and  old,  sturdy  and  feeble ;  but  among  them  there  were  not  a 
few  fierce-looking  girls  and  women,  plantation  hands  of  the 
wildest  and  most  unkempt  sort,  carelessly  dressed  in  short 
ragged  filthy  kirtles,  that  reached  only  to  the  knee,  and 
with  their  woolly  hair  tangled  and  matted  with  dust  and 
dirt,  instead  of  being  covered  with  the  comely  and  be- 
coming bandana  turban  of  the  more  civilised  and  decent 
household  negresses.  These  women  carried  cutlasses  too, 
the  ordinary  a^ioultural  implement  of  all  su^ar-growiag 


tn  ALL  8WADE9 


n» 


tropical  conntries ;  and  one  had  but  to  glance  at  their  stal- 
wart black  arms  or  their  powerful  naked  logs  and  feet,  as 
well  as  at  their  cruel  laughing  faces,  to  see  in  a  moment 
that,  if  need  were,  they  could  wield  their  blunt  but  heavy 
weapons  fully  as  ellectively  and  as  ruthlessly  in  their  own 
way  as  the  resolute  vengeful  men  themselves.  So  wholly 
unsexed  were  they,  indeed,  by  brutal  field-labour  and  brutal 
affections,  that  it  was  hard  to  look  upon  t^i^m  closely  for  a 
minute  and  believe  them  tc  be  really  and  truly  women. 

The  conspirators  assembled  silently,  it  is  true,  so  far  as 
silence  under  such  circumstances  is  ever  possible  to  the 
noisy  demonstrative  negro  nature ;  but  in  spite  of  fthe  evi- 
dent effort  which  every  man  made  at  self-restraint,  there 
was  a  low  under-current  of  whispered  talk,  accompanied  by 
the  usual  running  commentary  of  grimaces  and  gesticula- 
tions, which  made  a  buzz  or  murmur  hum  ceaselessly 
through  the  whole  crowd  of  five  or  six  hundred  armed 
semi-savages.  Now  and  again,  the  women  especially, 
looking  down  with  delightful  anticipation  at  their  newly 
whetted  cutlasses,  would  break  out  into  hoarse  ungovern- 
able laughter,  as  they  thought  to  themselves  of  the  proud 
white  throats  they  were  going  to  cut  that  memorable 
evening,  and  the  dying  cries  of  the  little  white  pickanies 
they  were  going  to  massacre  in  their  flounced  and  embroi- 
dered lace  bassinettes. 

*  It  warm  me  heart,  Mistah  Delgado,  sah,'  one  white- 
haired,  tottering,  venerable  old  negro  mumbled  out  slowly 
with  a  pleasant  smile,  *  to  see  so  many  good  neighbour  all 
come  togedder  again  for  kill  de  buckra.  It  long  since  I  see 
fine  gadering  like  dis.  I  mindde  time,  sah,  in  slavery  day, 
when  I  was  young  man,  just  begin  for  to  make  lub  to  de 
le-adies,  how  we  rise  all  togedder  under  John  Trelawney 
down  at  Star- Apple  Bottom,  go  hunt  the  white  folk  in  the 
great  insurrection.  Ha,  dem  was  times,  sah — dem  was 
times,  I  tellin'  you  de  trut,'  me  fiien',  in  de  great  insurrec- 
tion. We  beat  de  goomba  drum,  we  go  up  to  Mistah 
Pourtalds — same  what  flog  me  mudder  so  unmerciful  dat 
the  buckra  judges  even  fine  him — an'  we  catch  de  massa 
himself,  an'  we  beat  him  dead  wit  stick  an*  cutlnss.  Ha, 
ba,  d«m  was  times,  sah.    Den  we  catch  d«  yonns  le-adiei, 


i 


i  >; 


IN  ALL  SHADE fi 


an'  we  hack  dem  all  to  pieces,  an'  we  bum  de  bodies.  Den 
■we  go  on  to  odder  house,  take  all  de  buckra  we  find,  shoot 
some,  roast  some  same  we  roast  pig,  an'  bum  some  in  deir 
own  houses.  Dem  was  times,  sah— dem  was  times.  I 
doan't  s'pose  naygur  now  will  do  like  we  do  when  I  is 
young  man.  But  dis  is  good  meeting,  fine  meeting :  we 
cry  *♦  Colour  for  colour."  "  Buckra  country  for  us,"  an'  de 
Lard  prosper  us  in  de  work  we  hab  in  hand !    Hallelujah ! ' 

One  of  the  women  stood  listening  eagerly  to  this 
thrilling  recital  of  early  exploits,  and  aslced  him  in  a 
hushed  voice  of  the  intensest  interest :  *  An'  what  de  end 
ob  it  all,  Mistah  Corolla  ?  What  come  ob  it  ?  How  you 
no  get  buckra  house,  den,  for  yourself  lib  in  ? ' 

The  old  man  shook  his  head  mournfully  as  he  answered 
with  a  meditative  sigh :  *  Ah,  buckra  too  strong  for  us,  too 
strong  for  us  altogedder  !  come  upon  us  too  many.  Colonel 
Macgregor,  him  come  wit  plenty  big  army,  gun  an'  bay'net, 
an'  shoot  us  down,  an'charge  us  ridin' ;  so  we  all  frightened, 
an'  run  away  hide  in  de'  bush  right  up  in  de  mountains. 
Den  dem  bring  Cuban  bloodhound,  hunt  us  out ;  an'  dem 
hab  court-martial,  an'  d  ^m  sit  on  Trelawney,  an'  dem  hang 
him,  hang  him  dead,  de  buckra.  An'  dem  hang  plent- 
We  kill  twenty — twenty-two — twenty-four  buclcra  ;  : 
buckra  kill  hundred  an'  eighty  poor  naygur,  so  make  tingo 
even.  For  one  buckra,  dem  kill  ten,  fifteen,  twenty 
naygur.  But  my  master  hide  me  till  martial  law  blow 
ober,  because  I  is  strong,  hearty  young  naygur,  an'  can 
work  well  for  him  down  in  cane-piece.  Him  say :  "  Doan't 
must  kill  valuable  property  !  "  An'  I  get  off  dat  way.  So 
dat  de  end  ob  John  Trelawney  him  rebelHon.' 

If  the  poor  soul  could  only  have  known  it,  he  might 
have  added  with  perfect  truth  that  it  was  the  end  of  every 
other  negro  rebellion  too  ;  the  white  oppressor  is  always  too 
strong  for  them.  But  hope  springs  eternal  in  the  black 
breast  as  in  all  others,  and  it  was  with  a  placid  smile  of 
utter  oblivion  that  he  added  next  minute  :  '  But  we  doan't 
gwine  to  be  beaten  dis  time.  We  too  strong  ourselbes  now 
for  de  soldier  an'  de  buckra.  Delgado  make  tings  all 
snug ;  buy  pistol,  drill  naygur,  plan  battle,  till  we  sure  ob 
de  viotory.    D«  Lard  wit  us,  an'  Delgado  lum  serbant.* 


TN  ALL  SHADES 


9Sf 


At  that  moment  Louis  Delgarlo  himself  stepped  forward, 
erect  and  firm,  with  the  unmistakable  air  of  a  bom  com- 
mander, and  said  a  few  words  in  a  clear  low  earnest  voice 
to  the  eager  mob  of  armed  rioters.  '  Me  fren'a,'  he  said, 
*  you  must  obey  orders.  Go  quiet,  an'  make  no  noise  till 
you  get  to  de  buckra  houses.  Doan't  turn  aside  forde  rum 
or  de  trash-houses;  we  get  plenty  rum  for  ourselves,  I 
tellin'  you,  when  we  done  killed  all  de  buckra.  Doan't  set 
fire  to  de  house  anywhere  ;  only  kill  de  male  white  folk  ;  we 
want  house  to  lib  in  oiu'selves,  when  de  war  ober.  Doan't 
bum  de  factories ;  we  want  factory  for  make  sugar  our- 
selves when  de  buckra  dribben  altogether  clean  out  ob  the 
country.  Doan't  hght  fire  at  all ;  if  you  light  fire,  de 
soldiers  in  Port-ob-Spain  see  de  blaze  directly,  and  come  up 
an'  fight  us  hard,  before  we  get  togedder  enough  black  men 
to  make  sure  ob  de  glorious  victory.  Nebber  mind  de 
buckra  le-ady  ;  we  can  get  dem  when  we  want  dem.  Kill, 
kill,  kill  I  dat  is  de  watchword.  Kill,  kill,  kill  de  buckra, 
an'  de  Lard  delibber  de  rest  into  the  hands  ob  his  chosen 
people.'  As  he  spoke,  he  raised  his  two  black  hands,  palm 
upwards,  in  the  attitude  of  earnest  sir  plication,  towards 
the  darkening  heaven,  and  flung  his  huad  fervently  back- 
ward, with  the  whites  of  his  big  eyes  rolling  horribly,  in  his 
unspoken  prayer  to  the  God  of  battles. 

The  negroes  around,  caught  with  the  contagious  en- 
thusiasm of  Delgado's  voice  and  mutely  eloquent  gesture, 
flung  up  their  own  dusky  hands,  cutlasses  and  all,  with 
the  selfsame  wild  and  expressive  pantomime,  and  cried 
aloud,  in  a  scarcely  stifled  undertone  :  '  De  Lard  deHbber 
dem,  de  Lard  delibber  dem  to  Louis  Delgado.' 

The  old  African  gazed  around  him  complacently  for  a 
second  at  the  goodly  mus',er  of  armed  followers,  to  the 

Eicked  men  among  whom  Isaac  PourtaUs  was  already 
usily  distributing  the  pistols  and  the  cartridges.  '  Are 
you  ready,  me  fren's  ?  '  he  asked  again,  after  a  short 
pause.  And,  like  a  deep  murmur,  the  answer  rang  unani- 
mously from  the  great  tumultuous  black  mass :  *  Praise 
de  Lard,  sah,  we  ready,  we  ready  1 ' 

•  Den  march  ! '  Delgado  cried,  in  the  loud  tone  of  a 
eommanding  ofdoer ;  and  suiting  the  action  to  the  word, 

16 


' 


if 


I 


IN  ALL  BHADSa 


the  whole  mob  turned  ultor  him  eilontly,  along  the  wmding 
path  that  led  down  by  tortuous  twists  from  the  olump  of 
oabbage-palms  to  the  big  born-like  Orange  Grove  trash- 
houses. 

With  their  naked  foot  and  their  oat- like  troad,  the 
negroes  marched  along  fur  more  silently  than  white  men 
could  over  have  done,  towards  the  faint  lights  that  gleamed 
fitfully  beyond  the  gully.  If  possible,  Dulgado  would  have 
preferred  to  iead  them  straight  to  Orange  Grove  House, 
for  his  resentment  burnt  fiercest  of  all  against  the  Dupuy 
family,  and  ho  wished  at  least,  whatever  else  happened,  to 
make  sure  of  massacring  that  one  single  obnoxious  house- 
hold. But  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to  turn  first  to  tliu 
trash-houses  and  the  factory,  for  rumours  of  soDie  impend- 
ing trouble  had  already  vaguely  reached  the  local  authorities. 
Tho  two  constables  of  the  district  stood  there  on  guiird,  and 
the  few  faithful  and  trustworthy  phuitiU;ion  hands  were 
with  them  there,  in  npite  of  Mr.  Dupuy's  undisguised  ridi- 
cule, half  expecting  an  insurgent  attack  that  very  evening. 
It  would  never  do  to  leave  the  onemy  thus  in  the  rear, 
ready  dither  to  attack  them  from  behind,  or  to  bear  down 
the  news  and  seek  for  aid  at  Port-of- Spain.  Del^'ado's 
plan  was  therefore  to  carry  each  plantation  entire  as  ho 
went,  mthout  allowing  time  to  the  well-ailoctcd  negroes  to 
give  the  alarm  to  the  whites  in  the  next  one.  But  he 
feared  greatly  the  perils  and  temptations  of  tho  factory  for 
his  unruly  army.  *  Whatebber  else  you  do,  me  fren's,'  the 
old  African  muttered  more  than  once,  turning  round  be- 
seechingly to  his  ragged  black  followers,  'doan't  drink  de 
new  rum,  and  doan't  sot  fire  to  de  buckra  trasli-housos.' 

At  the  foot  of  the  httle  knoll  under  whose  base  the 
trash-houses  lay.  they  came  suddenly  upon  one  of  the 
faitiilul  field-hands.  Napoleon  Floreal,  whose  fidelity 
Delgado  had  already  in  vain  attempted  with  his  rude 
persuasions.  The  negroes  singled  him  out  at  once  for  their 
first  ve  'geancc.  Before  the  man  could  raise  so  much  as  a 
sharp  shout,  Isaac  Pourtalds  had  seized  him  from  behind 
ar  d  gagged  his  mouth  with  a  loose  bandana.  Two  of  the 
other  men,  auick  as  Ughtning,  snatched  his  arms,  and  held 
them  bent  baek  in  a  yery  painful  attitude  behind  his 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


shoulders.    '  If  you  is  wit  us/  Delgado  said,  in  a  hoarse 

whisper,  *  lift  your  ri^jlit  foot,  fdluli.'  Florral  kept  both 
foot  prosscd  df);^'f^'Gtliy  tl(Avii  with  ntf^TO  couiii^;!!  upon  the 
ground.  'Ilim  is  tr.iiLor,  trjiitor  I '  Pouitalos  muttered, 
between  his  cioiidiod  toolh.  '  Ilim  hub  black  skin  but 
white  heart.     Kill  hiin,  kill  hira  I  ' 

In  a  second,  a  dozen  an;jry  no^^Toos  had  darted  forward, 
with  their  savu|,'e  cuthiK;;oH  bruudiahed  aloft  in  the  air, 
ready  to  hack  thoir  olfonding  follow-countiymen  into  & 
thousand  pieces.  *  Cut  out  him  haart,'  cried  one  fiercely, 
'  an'  let  mo  oat  it  I '  13ut  Dd^'ado,  his  black  hands  held 
up  with  a  warning  air  before  tlii.in,  thundered  out  in  a  tone 
of  bitter  indigiialion  :  •  Doan't  kill  him  I — doan't  kill  him  I 
My  children,  kill  in  good  order.  Dar  is  plenty  buckra  for 
you  to  kill,  witout  want  to  kill  your  own  brudder.  Tie  de 
han'korcher  around  him  mout',  bind  rope  around  him  arm 
an'  leg,  an'  trow  him  down  de  gully  yonder  among  de 
cactus  jungle  I ' 

Even  as  he  spoke,  one  of  the  men  produced  a  piece  of 
stout  ropo  from  his  pocket,  brought  for  the  very  purpose 
of  tying  the  *  prisoners,'  and  proccedtd  to  wind  it  tightly 
ground  Floreal's  body.  I'hoy  fuHtoucd  it  well  round  arms 
and  legs ;  stuH'od  the  bandana  firmly  down  his  throat, 
so  as  to  check  all  his  futile  uilcmptH  at  shouting,  and  rolled 
him  over  the  slight  b;uilc  of  Ciulh,  down  among  the  thick 
scrub  of  prickly  cjictu?^.  Thon,  r.,s  Mio  blood  spurted  out  of 
the  small  womuls  made  by  tlio  sharp  thorns,  they  f::ave  a 
sudden  low  yell,  and  burst  in  a  body  upon  Hie  guardians  of 
the  trash-houses. 

Before  the  two  black  policoincn  had  time  to  know  what 
was  actually  h  ii)[)ening,  they  found  them:  "Ives  similarly 
gagged  and  bound,  and  tossed  down  beside  Napoleon 
Floreal  on  the  prickly  ia(;tus  bi  il.  In  a  minute,  the  in- 
surgents had  surrounded  the  tuisli.liouHo.s,  cut  down  and 
taken  prisoners  the  few  faithful  iic'^rocs,  and  marched  them 
along  unwillingly  in  their  own  hody  as  hostages  for  the 
better  behavionr  of  the  Orange  Grove  house-servants. 

•  Now,  mo  fren's,'  Delgado  shouted,  with  fierce  energy, 
•  Jowu  wit  do  I)u|mys  !  We  gwiuo  to  humble  dn  iiMud 
whitt»  man  1     V\  u  mubt  hub  blood  I    De  Laid  is  wU  ui  1 


1, 


210 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


He  hat'  put  down  de  mighty  from  deir  seats,  an*  hat' 
exalted  de  lowly  an'  raeek  I ' 

But  as  he  spok'  ,  one  or  two  of  the  heaviest-looking 
among  the  rioters  began  to  cast  their  longing  eyes  upon  the 
unbroached  hogsheads.  *  De  rum,  de  rum  ! '  one  of  them 
cried  hoarsely.  *  We  want  sufiln  for  keep  our  courage  up. 
Little  drop  o'  rum  help  naygur  man  well  to  humble  de 
buckra.' 

Delgado  rushed  forward  and  placed  himself  resolutely, 
pistol  in  hand,  before  the  seductive  hogsheads.  *  "Who- 
ebber  diink  a  drop  ob  dat  rum  dis  blessed  ebenin','  he 
hissed  out  angrily,  *  before  all  de  Dupuys  is  lyin*  cold  in 
deir  own  houses,  as  sure  as  de  gospel  I  shoot  him  dead  here 
wit  dis  very  pistol  I ' 

But  the  foremost  rioters  only  laughed  louder  than  be- 
fore, and  one  of  them  even  wrenched  the  pistol  suddenly 
from  his  leader's  grasp  with  an  unexpected  side  movement. 

*  Look  hyar,  ^listah  Delgado,'  the  man  said  quietly  :  '  dis 
risin'  is  all  our  risin',  an'  we  has  got  to  hab  voice  ourselbes 
in  de  partickler  way  we  gwine  to  manage  him.  We  doan't 
gwine  away  witout  de  rum,  an'  we  gwine  to  break  just  one 
little  pickanie  hogbhcad.*  At  the  word,  he  raised  his 
cutlass  above  his  head,  and  lunging  forward  with  it  like  a 
Bword,  with  all  his  force,  stove  in  one  of  the  thick  cross. 
pieces  at  the  top  of  the  barrel,  and  let  the  precious  liquor 
dribble  out  slowly  from  the  chink  in  a  small  but  continuous 
trickling  stream.  Next  moment  a  dozen  black  hands  ^vere 
held  down  to  the  silent  rill  like  little  cups,  and  a  dozen 
dusky  mouths  were  drinking  down  the  hot  new  rum,  neat 
and  unalloyed,  with  fierce  grimaces  of  the  highest  gusto. 

*  Ha,  dat  good  1 '  ran  round  the  chorus  m  thirsty  appro- 
bation :  '  dat  warm  de  naygur's  heart.  Us  gwine  now  to 
loll  de  buckra  in  true  earnes'.' 

Delgado  stood  by,  mad  with  rage  and  disappointment, 
as  he  saw  his  followers,  one  after  another,  scrambhng  for 
handful  after  handful  of  the  fiery  hquor,  and  watched  some 
of  them,  the  women  especially,  reeling  about  foolishly 
almost  at  once  from  the  poisonous  fumes  of  the  unrefined 
gpiril .  TIo  felt  in  his  heart  that  liis  chances  were  slippir;,' 
rapidly  kom  liim,  evau  buiure  the  iusuiTcction  wtu  vnoi 


m  ALh  SHADES 


241 


begun,  an(!  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  a  crowd  of  half- 
drujiken  iiuj^roos  to  i>ivc.ve  the  order  and  discipline  which 
alone  would  enable  thuni  to  cope  with  the  all-puissant  and 
regularly  drilled  white  men.  But  the  more  he  stormed 
and  swore  and  raved  at  them,  the  more  did  the  greedy 
and  uncontrolled  negroes,  now  rovelhng  in  the  unstinted 
supply,  hold  their  hands  to  tbe  undiminished  stream,  and 
drink  it  oH'  by  palmftils  with  still  deeper  grunts  and  groans 
of  internal  satisfaction.  '  If  it  doan't  no  hope  ob  conquer 
de  island,'  the  African  muttered  at  last  with  a  wild  Guinea 
oath  to  Isaac  Pourtal6s,  '  at  any  rate  we  has  time  to  kill 
de  Dupuys — an'  dat  always  some  satisfaction.' 

The  men  were  now  thoroughly  intlamed  with  the  hot 
new  rum,  and  more  than  one  of  them  began  to  cry  aloud  : 
*  It  time  to  get  to  de  reg'lar  busniess.'  But  a  few  still 
lingered  lovingly  around  the  dripping  hogshead,  catching 
double  handfuls  of  the  fresh  spirit  in  their  capacious  palms. 
Presently,  one  of  the  women,  mad  with  drink,  drew  out  a 
short  pipe  from  her  filthy  pocket  and  began  to  fill  it  to  the. 
top  with  raw  tobacco.  As  she  did  so,  she  turned  tipsily  to 
a  man  by  her  side  and  asked  him  for  a  light.  The  fellow 
took  a  match  in  his  unsteady  fingers  and  struck  it  on  a 
wooden  post,  flinging  it  away  when  done  with  among  a  few 
small  scraps  of  dry  trash  that  lay  by  accident  upon  the 
ground  close  by.  Trash  is  the  desiccated  refuse  of  cane 
&om  which  the  juice  has  been  already  extracted,  and  it  is 
ordinarily  used  as  a  convenient  fuel  to  feed  the  crushing- 
mills  and  boil  the  molasses.  Dry  as  tmder  it  lighted  up 
with  u  flare  instantaneously,  and  raised  a  crackling  blaze, 
whose  ruddy  glow  pleased  and  delighted  the  childish  minda 
of  the  half-drunken  negroes.  *  How  him  burn ! '  the  woman 
with  the  pipe  cried  excitedly.  *  Sposin'  we  set  fire  to  de 
trash-house  I  My  heart,  how  him  blaze  den  I  Him  light 
up  aU  de  momitains!  Bum  de  trash -house  1  Bum  de 
trash-house  I    Dat  pretty  for  true  I    Burn  de  trash-house  I 

Quick  as  lightnmg,  the  tipsiest  rioters  had  idly  kicked 
the  bummg  ends  of  loose  trash  among  the  great  stacked 
heaps  of  dry  cano  under  the  big  sheds  ;  and  in  one  second, 
before  Delgado  could  even  strive  in  vain  to  exert  his  feeble 
authority,  tke  whole  mass  had  flashed  into  a  single  hugs 


242 


Ur  ALL  SHADES 


sheet  of  JBamo,  rising  fiercely  into  the  evening  sky,  and 
reddening  with  its  glow  the  peaks  around,  like  the  lurid 
glare  of  a  huge  volcano.  As  the  flames  darted  higher  and 
ever  higher,  licking  up  the  leaves  and  stalks  as  they  went, 
the  negroes,  now  fairly  loosed  from  all  restraint,  leaped  and 
shrieked  wildly  around  them — some  of  them  half-drunk, 
others  absolutely  reeling,  and  all  laughing  loud  with 
hideous,  wild,  unearthly  laughter,  in  their  dcvihsh,  mur- 
derous merriment.  Delgado  alone  saw  with  horror  that 
his  great  scheme  of  hberation  was  being  fast  rendered 
ultimately  hopeless,  and  could  only  now  concentrate  his 
attention  upon  his  minor  plan  of  personal  vengeance 
against  the  Dupuy  family.  Port-of-Spain  would  be  fairly 
roused  by  the  blaze  in  half  an  hour,  but  at  least  there  was 
time  to  murder  outright  the  one  offending  Orange  Grove 
household. 

For  a  few  minutes,  helpless  and  repourccless,  he  allowed 
the  half-tipsy  excited  creatures  to  dance  madly  around  the 
flaring  fire,  and  to  leap  and  gesticulate  with  African  fero- 
city in  the  red  glare  of  the  rapidly  burning  trash-house. 

*  Let  dem  wear  out  de  rum,*  he  cried  bitterly  to  Pourtal^s  : 
'  de  heat  help  to  sweat  it  out  ob  dem.  But  in  a  minute, 
de  Dupuys  gwine  to  be  down  upon  us  wit  de  constables  an* 
de  soldiers,  if  dem  doan't  make  haste  to  kill  dem  befoT->»- 
hand.' 

Soon  the  drunken  rioters  themselves  began  to  remember 
that  burning  trash-houses  and  stealing  rum  was  not  the 
only  form  of  amusement  they  had  proposed  to  themselves 
for  that  evening's  entertainment.  '  Kill  de  buckra ! — kill 
de  buckra  I '  more  than  one  of  them  now  yelled  out  fiercely 
at  the  top  of  his  voice,  brandishing  his  cutlass.  *  Buckra 
country  for  us  t  Colour  for  colour  I  Kill  dem  all  I  Kill 
de  buckra !  * 

Delgado  seized  at  once  upon  the  slender  opportunity. 

*  Me  fren's,'  he  shrieked  aloud,  raising  his  pcdms  once 
more  imploringly  to  heaven,  *  Idll  dem,  kill  dem  I  Follow 
xne  1    Hallelujah  I    I  gwine  to  lead  you  to  kill  de  buckra  I  * 

Most  of  the  negroes,  recalled  to  duty  by  the  old  African's 
angry  voice,  now  fell  once  more  into  their  rude  marching 
order;  but  one  or  two  of  them,  and  those  the  tipsiest. 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


Ut 


began  to  turn  back  wistfully  in  the  direction  of  the  little 
pool  of  new  rum  that  lay  sparkling  in  the  glare  like  molten 
gold  in  front  of  the  still  running  hogshead.  Louis  Delgado 
looked  at  them  with  the  fierce  contempt  of  a  strong  mind 
for  such  incomprehensible  vacillating  weakness.  Wrench- 
ing his  pistol  once  more  from  the  tips^  grasp  of  the  man 
who  had  first  seized  it,  he  pointed  it  in  a  threatening 
attitude  at  the  head  of  the  foremost  negro  among  the 
recalcitrant  drunkards.  '  Dis  time  I  tellin'  you  true,'  he 
cried  fiercely,  in  a  tone  of  unmistakable  wrath  and  firm- 
ness. '  De  first  man  dat  take  a  single  step  nearer  dat 
infernal  hquor,  so  help  me  God,  I  blow  his  brains  out  t ' 

Reckless  with  drink,  and  unable  to  beUeve  in  his 
leader's  firmness,  the  foremost  man  took  a  step  or  two, 
laughing  a  drunken  laugh  meanwhile,  in  the  forbidden 
direction,  and  then  turned  round  again,  grinning  hke  a 
baboon,  towards  Louis  Delgado. 

He  had  better  have  trifled  with  an  angry  tiger.  The 
fierce  old  African  did  not  hesitate  or  palter  for  a  single 
second  ;  pulling  the  trigger,  he  fired  straight  at  the  grin- 
ning face  of  the  drunken  renegade.  Tbo  shot  rang  sharp 
and  clear  against  the  fellow's  teeth,  and  passed  downward 
through  the  back  of  his  head,  killing  him  instantaneously. 
He  fell  like  a  log  in  the  pool  of  new  rum,  and  reddened 
the  stream  even  as  they  looked  with  the  quick  flow  of 
crimson  blood  from  the  mangled  arteries. 

Delgado  himself  hardly  paused  a  second  to  glance 
contemptuously  at  the  fallen  recalcitrant.  'Now,  me 
fren's,'  he  cried  firmljjr,  lacking  the  corpse  in  his  wrath, 
and  with  his  eyes  twitching  in  a  terrible  fashion,  *  who* 
ebber  else  disobeys  orders,  I  gwine  to  shoot  him  dead  dat 
very  minute,  same  as  I  shoot  dat  ^'ood-for-nuifin  disobedient 
naygur  dar  1  We  has  got  to  Ivill  de  buckra  to-night,  an' 
ebbery  man  ob  you  must  follow  me  now  to  kill  dem  'medi- 
ately. De  Lard  deUbber  dem  into  our  hand  1  Follow  me, 
an'  colour  for  colour  I ' 

At  the  word,  the  last  recalcitrants,  awed  into  sobriety 
for  the  moment  by  the  sudden  and  gha:^tly  death  of  their 
companion,  turned  trembhng  to  their  place  in  the  rude 
ranks,  and  began  once  more  to  march  on  in  serried  order 


244 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


after  Louis  Delgado.  And  with  one  voice,  the  tnmultaoas 
rabble,  putting  itself  again  in  rapid  motion  towards  Orange 
Grove,  shrieked  aloud  once  more  the  terrible  watchword : 
*  Colour  for  colour  1    Kill  de  buckra  1 ' 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

Me.  Dupuy  was  seated  quietly  at  dinner  in  bis  own  dining- 
room,  with  Nora  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  table,  and 
Uncle  Zekiel,  the  butlor,  in  red  plush  waistcoat  as  usual, 
standing  solemnly  behind  his  chair.  Mr.  Dupuy  was  in 
excellent  spirits  that  evening,  in  spite  of  the  little  affair 
last  night,  for  the  cane  had  cut  very  heavy,  and  the  boiling 
was  progressing  in  the  most  admirable  manner.  He  sipped 
his  glass  of  St.  Emilion  (as  impoitod)  with  the  slow,  easy 
air  of  a  person  at  peace  with  himself  and  with  all  creation. 
The  world  at  large  seemed  just  that  moment  to  suit  him 
excellently.  '  Nora,  my  dear, '  he  drawled  out  lazily,  with 
the  unctuous  deliberateness  of  the  full-blooded  man  well 
fed,  'this  is  a  capital  pine-apple  certainly — a  Ripley,  I 
perceive ;  far  superior  in  flavour,  llipleys,  to  the  cheap 
common  black  sugar-pines :  always  insist  upon  getting 
Ripleys — I  think,  if  you  please,  I'll  take  another  piece  of 
that  pine-apple.' 

Nora  cut  him  a  good  thick  slice  from  the  centre  of  the 
fruit — it  is  only  in  England  that  people  commit  the  vul- 
garian atrocity  of  cutting  pine  in  thin  layers — and  laid 
down  the  laiife  with  a  stiiled  yawn  upon  the  tall  dessert 
dish.  She  was  evidently  bored — very  deeply  bored  indeed. 
Orange  Grove  without  Harry  Noel  began  to  seem  a  trifle 
dull;  and  it  must  be  confessed  that  to  live  for  months 
together  with  an  old  gentleman  of  Mr.  Dupuy's  sluggish 
temperament  was  scarcely  a  lively  mode  of  life  for  a  pretty, 
volatile,  laughter-loving  girl  of  twenty,  lilve  little  Nora. 
*  What's  this,  papa,'  she  asked  languidly,  just  by  way  of 
keeping  up  the  conversation,  '  about  the  negroes  here  in 
WesLniorehiiid  being  so  dreadfully  discontented?  Some- 
body was  telling  me ' — Nora  prudently  biippressed  Marian 


J.7  ALL  SnADEB 


tii 


Hawthorn's  name,  for  fear  of  an  explosion — *  that  there*! 
a  great  deal  of  stir  and  luiment  among  the  plantation 
hands.  What  are  they  bothering  and  worrying  about  now* 
I  wonder  ? ' 

Mr.  Dupuy  rolled  the  remainder  of  his  glassful  of 
daret  on  his  discriminative  palate,  very  reflectively,  for 
half  a  minute  or  so,  and  then  answered  in  his  most 
leisurely  fashion :  '  Lies,  lies — a  pack  of  lies,  the  whole 
lot  of  it,  Nora.  I  know  who  you  heard  that  from,  though 
you  won't  tell  me  so.  You  heard  it  from  some  of  your 
fine  coloured  friends  there,  over  at  Mulberry. — Now,  don't 
deny  it,  for  I  won't  believe  you.  When  I  say  a  thing,  you 
know  I  mean  it.  You  heard  it,  I  say,  from  some  of  these 
wretched,  disaffected  coloured  people.  And  there  isn't  a 
word  of  truth  in  the  whole  story — not  a  syllable — not  a 
shadow — not  a  grain— not  a  penumbra.  Absolute  false- 
hood, the  entire  lot  of  it,  got  up  by  these  designing  radical 
coloured  people,  on  purpose  to  serve  their  own  private 
purposes.  I  assure  you,  Nora,  there  isn't  in  the  whole 
world  a  finer,  better  paid,  better  fed,  better  treated,  or 
more  happy  and  coutonied  peasantry  than  our  own  com- 
fortable West  Indian  negroes.  For  my  part,  I  can't 
conceive  what  on  earth  they've  ever  got  to  be  discontented 
about.' 

*  But,  papa,  they  do  say  there's  a  great  chance  of  a 
regular  rising.' 

•  Rising,  my  dear  I — rising !  Did  you  say  a  rising  ? 
Ho,  ho  I  that's  really  too  ridiculous  1  What,  these  niggers 
rise  in  revolt  against  the  white  people !  Why,  my  dear 
child,  they'd  never  dare  to  do  it.  A  pack  of  cowardly, 
miserable,  quaking  and  quavering  nigger  blackguards. 
Bise,  indeed  I  I'd  hke  to  see  them  try  it  1  0  no ;  nothing 
of  the  sort.  Somebody's  been  imposing  on  vou.  They're 
a  precious  sight  too  afraid  of  us,  ever  to  thiiik  of  venturing 
upon  a  regular  rising.  Show  mo  a  xi\';;^Qr,  I  always  say  to 
anybody  who  talks  that  sort  of  precious  noniunise  to  me, 
and  I'll  show  you  an  infern-'A  coward,  and  a  thief  too,  and 
a  har,  and  a  vagabond. — 'Zelciel,  you  rascal,  pour  me  out 
another  glass  of  claret,  sir,  this  minute,  will  you  I ' 

Uuole  'Zekiel  poured  out  the  claret  for  his  red-faue4 


I 


346 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


master  with  a  counteuanue  wholly  unclouded  by  thii  violent 
denunciation  of  his  o^vn  race ;  to  say  the  truth,  the  old 
butler  was  too  much  accustomed  to  similar  sentiments 
from  Mr.  Dupuy's  lips  even  to  notice  particularly  what  hip 
master  was  saying.  He  smiled  and  grinned,  and  showed 
liis  own  white  teeth  good-humouredly  as  he  laid  down  the 
claret  jug,  exactly  as  though  Mr.  Dupuy  had  been  ascribing 
to  the  African  race  in  general,  and  to  himself  in  particular, 
all  the  virtues  and  excellences  ever  observed  in  the  most 
abstractly  perfect  human  character. 

*  No/  Mr.  Dupuy  went  on  dogmatically,  •  they  won't 
rise :  a  pack  of  mean-spirited,  cowardly,  ignorant  vagabonds 
as  ever  were  born,  the  niggers,  the  whole  lot  of  them.  I 
never  knew  a  nigger  yet  who  had  a  single  ounce  of  courage 
in  him.  You  might  walk  over  them,  and  trample  them 
down  in  heavy  riding-boots,  and  they  wouldn't  so  much  as 
dare  to  raise  a  finger  against  you.  And  besides,  what  the 
dickens  have  they  got  to  rise  for  ?  Haven't  they  got  every- 
thing they  can  evor  expect  to  have  ?  Haven't  they  got 
their  freedom  and  their  cottages  ?  But  they're  always 
grumbling,  always  grumbling  about  something  or  other — a 
set  of  idle,  lazy,  discontented  vagabonds  as  ever  I  set 
eyes  on  1 ' 

*  I  thought  you  said  just  now,*  Nora  put  in  with  a  pro- 
voking smile,  'they  were  the  finest,  happiest,  and  most 
contented  peasantry  to  be  found  anywhere.' 

There  was  nothing  more  annoying  to  Mr.  Dupuy  than 
to  have  one  of  his  frequent  conversational  inconsistencies 
ruthlessly  brought  home  to  him  by  his  own  daughter — the 
only  person  in  the  whole  world  who  would  ever  have 
ventured  upon  taking  such  an  unwarrantable  liberty.  So 
he  laid  down  his  glass  of  claret  with  a  forced  smile,  and  by 
way  of  changing  the  subject,  said  unconcernedly :  '  Bless 
my  soul,  what  on  earth  can  all  that  glare  be  over  yonder  ? 
Upon  my  word,  now  I  look  at  it,  I  fancy,  Nora,  it  seems  to 
come  from  the  direction  of  the  trash-houses.' 

Uncle  'Zekiel,  standing  up  behind  his  master's  ohair, 
and  gazing  outward,  could  see  more  easily  over  the  dining- 
table,  and  out  through  the  open  doorway  of  the  room  to 
the  hillside  beyond,  where  the  glare  came  from.    In  a 


IN  ALL   SHADES 


t47 


by 


moment,  he  realised  the  full  meaning  of  the  unwonted 
blaze,  and  cried  out  sLiirply,  in  bis  islii-ill  old  tones :  '  0  sah, 
O  sah  !  de  naygurs  liab  risen,  an'  dam  burning'  de  trash- 
houses,  dem  bumin'  de  trash-bouses  I ' 

Mr.  Dupuy,  aghast  with  righteous  anger  and  astonish- 
ment,  could  hardly  believe  his  own  ears  at  this  unparalleled 
piece  of  nigger  impertinence  coming  from  so  old  a  servant 
as  Uncle  'Zekiel.  He  turned  round  upon  his  trusty  butler 
slowly  and  solemnly,  chair  and  all,  and  with  his  two  hands 
planted  firmly  on  his  capacious  knees,  he  said  in  his  most 
awful  voice :  *  'Zekiel,  I'm  quite  at  a  loss  to  understand  what 
you  can  mean  by  such  conduct.  Didn't  you  hear  me  dis- 
tinctly say  to  Miss  Nora  this  very  minute  that  the  niggers 
don't  rise,  won't  rise,  can't  rise,  and  never  have  risen  ? 
How  dare  you,  sir,  how  dare  you  contradict  me  to  my  very 
face  in  this  disgraceful,  unaccountable  manner  ? ' 

But  Uncle  'Zekiel,  quite  convinced  in  his  own  mind  of 
the  correctness  of  his  own  hasty  inference,  could  only 
repeat,  more  and  more  energetically  every  minute :  *  It  de 
trut*  I  telling  you,  sah ;  it  de  trut'  I  telhn'  you.  Naygur 
hab  risen,  runnin'  an'  shoutin',  kickin'  fire  about,  an' 
bumin'  de  trash-houses  i ' 

Mr.  Dupuy  rose  from  the  table,  pale  but  incredulous. 
Nora  jumped  up,  white  and  terrified,  but  with  a  mute  look 
of  horror-struck  appeal  to  Uncle  'Zekiel.  '  Doan't  you  be 
afraid,  missy,'  the  old  man  whispered  to  her  in  a  loud 
undertone  ;  *  we  fight  aU  de  naygur  in  all  Trinidad  before 
we  let  dem  hurt  a  single  hair  ob  your  sweet,  pretty,  white 
little  head,  dearie.' 

At  that  moment,  for  the  first  time,  a  loud  shout  burst 
suddenly  upon  their  astonished  ears,  a  mingled  tumultuous 
yell  of  *  Kill  de  buckra — kill  de  buckra ! '  broken  by  deep 
African  guttural  mumbhngs,  and  the  crackling  noise  of  the 
wild  flames  among  the  dry  cane-refuse.  It  was  the  shout 
that  the  negroes  raised  as  Dclgado  called  them  back  from 
the  untimely  fire  to  their  proper  work  of  bloodshed  and 
massacre. 

In  her  speechless  terror,  Nora  flung  herself  upon  her 
father's  arms,  and  gazed  out  upon  the  ever-redd  oing  glare 
beyond  with  unspeakable  alarm. 


I 


AM 


rN  ALL  STTADSa 


Next  mir.r.te,  iho  cry  from  without  rose  aj»am  louder 
and  louder  :  •  Buckra  country  for  us  1  Kill  de  buckra  I 
Colour  for  colour  1  Kill  dem — kill  dom  I  *  And  then, 
another  doop  nc^TO  voice,  cleuror  and  shriller  far  than  all 
of  them,  broke  the  deatlily  sLiUnesa  that  succeeded  for  a 
■econd,  with  the  perfectly  audible  and  awful  words:  'Follow 
mo!  I  gwine  to  lead  you  to  kill  de  Dupuys  an*  all  de 
buckra I ' 

''Zekiell*  Mr.  Dnpuy  bnid,  coming  to  himself,  and 
taking  down  his  walking-stick  with  that  calm  unshaken 
courage  in  which  the  w  hite  West  Indian  has  never  been 
found  lacking  in  the  hour  of  danger — *  'Zekiel,  come  with 
me  I     I  must  go  out  at  once  and  quell  these  rioters.' 

Nora  gazed  at  him  in  blank  dismay.     'Papa,  papa! 
she  cried  breathlessly,  '  you're  not  going  out  to  them  just 
with  your  stick,  are  you?    You're  not  going  out  alone  to 
all  these  wretches  without  even  so  much  as  a  gun  or  a 
pistol i ' 

'  My  dear,*  Mr.  Dupuy  answered,  coolly  and  collectedly, 
disengaging  himself  from  her  arms  not  without  some  quiet 
natural  tenderness, '  don't  be  alarmed.  You  don't  under- 
stand  these  people  as  well  as  I  do.  I'm  a  magistrate  for 
tlie  county  :  they'll  respect  my  position.  The  moment  I 
come  near,  they'll  all  disperse  and  grow  as  mild  as  babies.* 

And  even  as  he  spoke,  the  confused  shrieks  of  the 
women  surged  closer  and  closer  upon  their  ears :  *  Kill 
dem — kill  dem  I    De  hquor — de  liquor  I  * 

'  Ah  I  I  told  you  so,'  Mr.  Dupuy  murmured,  half  to 
hhnself,  very  complacently,  with  a  deep  breath.  '  Only  a 
foolish  set  of  tipsy  negresses,  waking  and  rum-drinking, 
and  kicking  about  firebrands.* 

For  another  second  there  was  a  slight  pause  again, 
while  one  might  count  twenty  ;  and  then  the  report  of  a 
pistol  rang  out  clear  and  definite  upon  the  startled  air  from 
the  direction  of  the  flaring  trash-houses.  It  was  Delgado's 
pistol,  shooting  down  the  tipsy  recalcitrant. 

*  This  means  business  I '  Mr.  Dupuy  ejaculated,  raising 
his  voice,  with  a  sidelong  glance  at  poor  trembling  Nora. 
— 'Gome  along,  'Zekiel;  come  along  all  of  yon.  We 
mist  go  out  at  once  and  quiet  them  or  disperse  them. — Dick, 


IN  ALL   nrTADES 


Tbomas,  Emiliua,  Robort,  Jo,  Mark  Antony ;  every  one 
of  you  I  come  along  with  mo,  come  along  with  me,  and 
see  to  the  trash-houses  before  ihuue  tipsy  wretches  have 
utterly  destroyed  them  t ' 


CHAPTER  XXXVIL 

Half-way  down  to  the  blazing  trash-housoa,  Mr.  Dupuy 
and  his  little  band  of  black  allies,  all  armed  only  with  the 
sticks  they  had  hastily  seized  from  the  stand  in  the  pia/.za, 
came  on  a  sudden  face  to  face  with  the  wild  and  frantic 
mob  of  half-tipsy  rioters.  *  Halt  I '  Mr.  Dupuy  cried  out 
in  a  cool  and  immoved  tone  of  command  to  the  reckless 
insurgents,  as  they  marched  on  in  irregular  order,  bran- 
dishing  their  cutlasses  wildly  in  the  flickering  firelight. 
'  You  infernal  blackguards,  what  the  devil  are  you  doing 
here,  and  what  do  you  mean  by  firing  and  burning  my 
trash-houses  ? ' 

By  the  ruddy  light  of  the  lurid  blaze  behind  him, 
Louis  Delgado  recognised  at  once  the  familiar  face  of  his 
dearest  enemy.  *  Me  fren's,'  ho  shrieked,  in  a  loud  out- 
burst of  gratified  vindictiveness,  '  dis  is  him— dis  is  him — 
dis  de  buckra  Dupuy  we  come  to  kill  now  1  De  Lard  has 
delibbered  him  into  our  hands  without  so  much  as  gib  us 
da  trouble  oh  go  an'  attack  him.' 

But  before  even  Delgado  could  bring  down  with  savage 
joy  his  uphfted  weapon  on  his  hated  enemy's  bare  head, 
Mr.  Dupuy  had  stepped  boldly  and  energetically  forward, 
and  catching  the  wiry  African  by  liii-  outstretched  arm, 
had  cried  aloud  in  his  coolest  and  most  dehberate  accents : 
*  Louis  Delgado,  put  down  your  cutlass.  As  a  magistrate 
for  this  island,  I  arrest  you  for  riot.' 

His  resolute  boldness  was  not  without  its  due  effect. 
For  just  the  swing  of  a  pendulum  there  was  a  profound 
silence,  and  that  great  mob  of  strangely  beraged  and  rum* 
maddened  negroes  held  its  breath  irresolutely,  doubting  in 
its  own  six  hundred  vacillating  souls  which  of  the  two 
tfuDgs  rather  to  do — whether  to  yield  as  usual  to  the 


250 


nr  ALL  SHADEa 


accustomed  snthority  of  that  one  bold  and  solitary  T^hite 
man,  the  accredited  mouthpiece  of  law  and  order,  or  else 
to  rush  forward  madly  and  hack  him  then  and  there  into 
a  thousand  pieces  with  African  ferocity.  So  instinctive  in 
the  West  Indian  negro's  nature  is  the  hereditary  respect 
for  European  blood,  that  even  though  they  had  come  there 
for  the  very  purpose  of  mus.sacring  and  mutilating  the 
defenceless  buukia,  they  stood  appalled,  now  the  actual 
crisis  had  fairly  arrived,  at  the  bare  idea  of  venturing  to 
dispute  the  question  openly  with  the  one  lone  and  unarmed 
white  man. 

But  Louis  Delgado,  African  bom  as  he  was,  had  no 
Buch  lingering  West  Indian  prejudices.  Disengaging  his 
einewy  captive  arm  from  Mr.  Dupuy's  flabby  grasp  with  a 
sudden  jerk,  he  hi'ted  his  cutlass  once  more  high  into  the 
air,  and  held  it,  ghttering,  for  the  twinkling  of  an  eye, 
above  the  old  man's  defenceless  head.  One  moment. 
Uncle  'Zekiel  saw  it  gleam  fearfully  in  the  red  glare  of 
the  burning  trash-houses ;  the  next,  it  had  fallen  on  Mr. 
Dupuy's  shoulder,  and  the  blood  was  spurting  out  in  crim- 
son splashes  over  his  white  tie  and  open  shirt-front,  in 
which  he  had  risen  but  tlu\  c  minutes  before  so  unsus- 
pectingly from  his  own  dmner- table. 

The  old  planter  reeled  terribly  before  the  violent  force 
of  that  staggering  blow,  but  kept  his  face  turned  bravely 
with  undimiiii:  bed  cournr^c  towards  the  exultant  enemy. 
At  the  sight  of  the  gushing  blood,  however — the  proud 
buckra  blood,  that  shows  so  visibly  on  the  dehcate  white 
European  skin — the  negroes  b  ind  set  up  a  loud  and 
horrid  peal  of  unearthly  laughter,  and  rushed  forward,  all 
their  hesitation  flung  away  at  once,  closing  round  him  in  a 
thickly  packed  body — like  a  bully  at  football — each  eager 
not  to  lose  his  own  share  in  the  delightful  excitement  of 
hackmg  him  to  pieces.  A  dozen  cutlasses  gleamed  aloft 
at  once  in  the  bare  black  arms,  and  a  dozen  more  blows 
were  aimed  at  the  wounded  man  fiercely  by  as  many 
hideous  grinning  rioters. 

Uncle  'Zekiel  and  the  household  negroes,  obhvious  and 
almost  unconscious  of  themselves,  as  domestic  servants  of 
their  race  always  are  in  the  presence  of  danger  for  their 


li 


nr  ALL  SBADBB 


master  or  his  family,  ;)i\josed  around  the  reeling  white  num 
in  a  serried  ring,  and  with  their  sticks  and  arms,  a  frail 
barrier,  strove  manfully  to  resist  the  fierce  onslaught  of 
the  yelling  and  leaping  plantation  negroes.  In  spite  of 
what  Mr.  Dupuy  had  just  been  saying  about  the  negroes 
being  all  alike  cowards,  the  petty  handful  of  faithful  blacks, 
forming  a  close  and  firm  semicircle  in  front  of  their 
wounded  master,  fought  like  wild  beasts  at  bay  before 
their  helpless  whelps,  with  hands,  and  arms,  and  legs,  and 
teeth,  and  sticks,  and  elbows,  opposing  stoutly,  by  fair 
means  and  foul,  the  ever-pressing  sea  of  wild  rioters.  As 
they  fought,  they  kept  yielding  slowly  but  cautiously  before 
the  steady  pressure  ;  and  Mr.  Dupuy,  reeling  and  stagger- 
ing he  knew  not  how,  but  with  his  face  kept  ever,  lilio  a 
fighting  Dupuy,  turned  dauntlessly  towards  the  surging 
enemy,  retreated  slowly  backward  step  by  step  in  the 
direction  of  his  own  piazza.  Just  as  he  reached  the 
bottom  of  the  steps,  Uncle  'Zekiel  meanwhile  shielding 
and  protecting  him  manfully  with  his  portly  person,  a 
woman  rushed  forth  from  the  mass  of  the  rioters,  and  with 
hideous  shrieks  of  *  Hallelujah,  hallelujah  I '  hacked  him 
once  more  with  her  blimt  cutlcss  upon  the  ribs  and  body. 

Mr.  Dupuy,  faint  and  feeble  from  loss  of  blood,  but  still 
cool  and  collected  as  ever,  groped  his  way  ever  backward 
up  the  steps,  in  a  blind,  reeling,  faihng  fashion,  and  stood 
at  last  at  bay  in  the  doorway  of  the  piazza,  with  his  faith- 
ful bodyguard,  wounded  and  bleeding  freely  like  himself, 
still  closing  resolutely  around  him. 

*  This  will  do,  'Zekiel,'  he  gasped  out  incoherently,  as 
he  reached  the  top  landing.  •  In  the  pass  of  the  doorway. 
Stop  them  easily.  Fire  rouse  the  military.  Hold  the 
house  for  half  an  hour — help  from  the  Governor.  Quick, 
quick  i  give  me  the  pistol.' 

Even  as  he  spoke,  a  small  white  hand,  delicate  and 
bloodless,  appearing  suddenly  from  the  room  behind  him, 
placed  his  little  revolver,  cocked  and  loaded,  between  the 
trembling  fingers  of  his  left  hand,  for  the  right  lay  already 
hacked  and  useless,  hanging  idly  by  his  side  in  hmp 
bfilplessness. 

*Nora,  my  dear,'  the  old  man  sobbed  ont  in  a  half- 


tn 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


articulate  giirgling  voice,  *  go  back— go  back  tliis  moment 
to  the  boudoir  Back  gardeu  ;  slip  away  quietly — no  place 
for  you,  Orange  Grove,  tliis  evening.  Slight  trouble  with 
the  plantation  blades.  Quell  the  rioters. — Close  up, 
•Zekiel.— Close  up,  Dick,  Tiiomas,  Jo,  Robert,  Emilius, 
Mark,  Antony  I  *  And  with  a  quivering  hand,  standing 
there  alone  in  the  narrow  doorway,  while  the  mob  below 
swarmed  and  pressed  up  tie  piazza  steps  in  wild  confusion, 
the  wounded  planter  fired  the  revolver,  with  no  definite 
aim,  blank  into  the  surging  midst  of  the  mob,  and  let  his 
left  hand  drop  as  he  did  so,  whi'e  and  fainting  by  his  side, 
with  his  vain  endeavour. 

The  bullet  had  hit  one  of  the  negro  women  full  in  the 
thigh,  and  it  only  served  still  farther  to  madden  and  enrage 
the  clamouring  mob,  now  frantically  thirsty  for  the  buckra 
blood. 

*  Him  wounded  Hannah — liim  wounded  Hannah  I '  the 
negroes  yelled  in  their  buzzing  indignation ;  and  at  the 
word,  they  rushed  forward  once  more  with  mad  gesticula- 
tions, those  behmd  pushing  those  in  front  against  the 
weak  yielding  wall  of  Orange  Grove  servants,  and  all 
menacmg  horribly  with  their  blood-reddened  cuthisncs,  as 
they  shrieked  aloud  frantic.iUy  :  *  Kill  him — kill  him  I ' 

The  servants  Ptill  held  firm  with  undaunted  courage, 
and  ralhed  bravely  round  their  tottering  master  ;  but  the 
onslaught  was  now  far  too  fierce  for  them,  and  one  by  one 
they  were  thrust  back  helpless  by  the  raging  mob,  who 
nevertheless  abstained  so  lar  as  possible  from  hurting  any 
one  of  them,  aiming  all  their  blows  directly  at  the  detested 
white  man  himself  alone.  If  by  chance  at  anv  m.oment  a 
ontlass  came  down  nnintentionally  upon  the  broad  backs 
of  the  negro  defenders,  a  cry  arose  at  once  from  the  women 
in  the  rear  of  *  Doan't  hit  him— doan't  hit  him.  Him  nie 
brudder.  Colour  for  colour  I  Kill  ue  buckra  I  Halle - 
ligahl' 

And  all  tliis  time,  Nora  Dnpuy  looked  on  from  behind, 
holding  her  bloodless  hands  clasped  downward  in  mute 
agony,  not  so  much  afraid  aa  expectant,  with  Aunt  Cleminy 
and  the  women-sarvauts  holduig  her  and  comforting  her 


! 


m  ALL  SHADES 


tM 


with  well-meant  negro  consolation,  under  the  heavy 
mahogany  arch  of  the  dining-room  doorway. 

At  last,  Delgado,  standing  now  on  the  topmost  step, 
uid  half  within  the  area  of  the  piazza,  aimed  one  terrible 
slashing  cnt  at  the  old  planter,  as  he  stood  supporting 
himself  feebly  by  a  piece  of  the  woodwork,  and  hacked 
him  down,  a  heavy  mass,  upon  the  ground  before  them 
with  a  wild  African  cry  of  vengeance.  The  poor  old  man 
fell,  insensible,  in  a  little  pool  of  his  own  blood ;  and  the 
Orange  Grove  negroes,  giving  way  finally  before  the  irre- 
sistible press  of  their  overwhelming  opponents,  left  him 
there  alone,  surrounded  on  every  side  by  the  frantic  mob 
of  enraged  insurgents. 

Nora,  olaspmg  her  hands  tighter  than  ever,  and  im- 
movable as  a  statue,  stood  there  still,  without  uttering  a 
cry  or  speaking  a  word — as  cold  and  white  and  motionless 
as  marble. 

•  Hack  him  to  pieces  I '  '  Cut  out  his  hoart  I '  '  Him 
doan't  dead  yet  I*  •  Him  only  faintin'  I  *  '  Bum  him — 
bum  him  I  *  A  chorus  of  cries  rose  incoherently  from  th* 
six  htmdred  lips  of  the  victorious  negroes.  And  as  they 
shouted,  they  mangled  and  Tiiutilated  the  old  man's  body 
with  their  blunt  cutlasses  in  a  way  perfectly  hideous  to 
look  at ;  the  women  especially  crowding  round  to  do  their 
best  at  kicking  and  insulting  their  fallen  enemy. 

*  Tank  de  Lard— tank  de  Lard  I  *  Delgado,  now  drunk 
with  blood,  shouting  out  fiercely  to  his  frenzied  followers. 
*  We  done  kiUed  d«  ole  maa.  Now  we  gwiue  to  kill  de 
mifli^l' 


CHAPTER  XXXVra. 

Etbm  ai  Delgado  stood  there  still  on  the  steps  of  ths 
piazza,  waving  his  blood-ftnin^d  cutlass  fiercely  about  his 
head,  and  settmg  his  foot  contempttiou'^iy  on  Mr.  Dupuy's 

8 rostrate  and  bleeding  body.  Harry  Noel  tore  up  the  path 
iiat  led  from  Dick  Castello'f  hou»f  at  Bavannali  Garden, 
and  halted  suddenly  in  blank  arrm/f rnent  in  front  of  th) 
doorway— Harry  Noe)  in  evening  d/egs.hatless  and  sparles« ; 

17 


154 


JN  ALL  BTTADSa 


lust  as  he  had  risen  in  horror  from  his  dinner,  and  riding 
hi8  new  mare  without  even  a  saddle,  in  his  hot  hasto  to  see 
the  cause  of  the  unexpprtod  tumult  at  the  Dupuy's  estate. 
The  fierce  red  glare  of  the  burning  cane-houses  had  roused 
him  unawares  at  Savannah  Garden  in  the  midst  of  his 
cofifee ;  and  the  cries  of  the  negroes  and  the  sound  of  pistol- 
shots  had  cast  him  into  a  frantic  fever  of  anxiety  for  Nora's 
safety.  *  The  niggers  have  risen,  by  Jove  I '  Dick  Castello 
cried  aloud,  as  the  flames  rose  higher  and  higher  above  the 
blazing  cane-houses.  *  They  must  be  attacking  old  Dupuy ; 
and  if  once  their  blood's  up,  you  may  take  your  oath  upon  it, 
Koel,  they  won't  leave  him  untU  they've  fairly  murdered 
him.' 

Harry  Noel  didn't  wait  a  moment  to  hear  any  further 
conjectures  of  his  host's  on  the  subject,  but  darting  round 
to  the  stables  bareheaded,  clapped  a  bit  forthwitli  into  his 
mare's  mouth,  jumped  on  her  back  just  as  she  stood,  in  a 
perfect  frenzy  of  fear  and  excitement,  and  tore  along  the 
narrow  winding  road  that  led  by  tortuous  stretches  to 
Orange  Grove,  as  fast  as  his  frightened  horse's  legs  could 
possibly  carry  him. 

As  he  leaped  eagerly  from  his  mount  to  the  ground  in 
the  midst  of  all  that  hideous  din  and  uproar  and  mingled 
confusion,  Delpado  was  just  calling  on  his  fellow-blacks  to 
follow  him  boldly  into  the  house  and  to  '  Kill  de  missy ;  * 
and  tlie  Orange  Grove  r»^groes,  cowed  and  terrified  now 
tliat  their  master  had  fallen  bodily  before  them,  were  be- 
ginning  to  drop  back,  trembling,  into  the  rooms  behind, 
and  to  i'llow  the  frantic  and  triumphant  rioters  to  have  their 
own  way  unmolested.  In  a  moment,  Harry  took  in  tlie 
full  tenor  of  the  scene — saw  Mr.  Dupuy's  body  lying,  a 
mass  of  liaclicd  and  bleeding  wounds,  upon  the  wooden 
floor  of  tile  front  piazza ;  saw  tlie  infuriated  negroes  press- 
ing on  eagerly  with  their  cutlasses  lifted  aloft,  now  fairly 
drunk  with  the  first  taste  of  buckra  blood  ;  and  Delgado  in 
fi'ont  of  them  all,  leaping  wildly,  and  gesticulating  in  frantic 
rnge  with  all  his  ams  and  hands  and  fingers,  as  he  drove 
back  the  terrified  servants  through  the  heavy  old  mahogany 
doorway  of  the  great  drawing-room  into  the  room  that 
opened  out  behind  towards  Nora's  own  little  sacred 
boudoir. 


Hf  ALL  SHADSa 


Harry  had  no  weapon  of  any  sort  with  him  except  the 
frail  riding- whip  he  carried  in  his  hand;  but  without 
waiting  for  a  second,  without  thinking  for  one  instant  of  the 
surrounding  danger,  he  rushed  frantically  up  the  piazza 
steps,  pushed  the  astonished  rioters  to  right  and  left  with 
his  powerful  arms,  jumped  over  the  senseless  planter's 
prostrate  body,  swept  past  Delgado  into  the  narrow  door- 
way, and  there  stood  confronting  the  savage  ringleader 
boldly,  his  httle  riding- whip  raised  high  above  his  proud 
head  with  a  fierce  and  threatening  angry  gesture.  *  Stop 
there  1 '  he  cried,  in  a  voice  of  stem  command,  that  even  in 
that  supreme  moment  of  passion  and  triumph  had  its  full 
effect  upti  the  enraged  negroes.  •  IStop  there,  you  mean- 
spirited  viU'iiTV'  and  murderers  I  Not  a  step  farther — not 
a  step  farthfci  1  tell  you!  Cowajrds,  cowards,  cowards, 
every  one  of  you,  to  kill  a  poor  old  man  lilce  that  upon  his 
own  staircase,  and  to  threaten  a  helpless  inuocent  lady.' 

As  he  spoke,  he  laid  his  hand  heavily  upon  Louis 
Delgado'r  bony  shoulder,  and  pushed  the  old  negro  steiidily 
backward,  out  of  the  doorway  and  through  ihe  piazza,  to  the 
front  steps,  where  Mr.  Dupuy's  body  was  still  lying  un- 
tended  and  bleeding  ^Jiofuscly.  •  Stand  back,  you  old 
slevil  1 '  he  cried  out  fiercely  and  authoritatively.  *  Stand 
back  this  minute,  and  put  down  your  infernal  cutlass ! 
You  shall  not  hurt  another  hair  of  their  heads,  I  tell  you. 
Cowards,  cowards,  cowards,  every  man  of  you.  If  you  want 
to  fight  the  whites,  you  cowardly  Bcoundrols  yeu,  why  don't 
you  fight  the  men  like  yourselves,  openly  and  straight- 
forward, instead  of  coming  by  night,  without  note  or  warn- 
ing, burning  md  hacking  and  killing  and  destroying,  and 
waging  war  against  dt  fenceless  old  men  and  women  and 
children  ? ' 

The  negroes  fell  bac^  a  little  grudgingly  as  he  spoke, 
and  answered  him  only  by  the  loud  and  dtcp  guttural  cry 
—an  marticulate,  horribly  inhuman  gurgle — wliich  is  their 
Bole  possible  form  of  speech  in  the  very  paroxysm  of  African 
passion.  Louis  Delgado  held  his  cutlass  half  doubtfully  in 
his  uplifted  hand  :  he  had  tasted  blood  once  now  ;  he  had 
laid  himself  open  to  the  tierce  vengf*anc*<  of  the  English 
law ;  he  was  sorely  tempted  in  Lu<d  whidwiud  of  th«  luoment 


r 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


to  cut  down  Harry  Noel  too,  as  he  had  oat  down  the  white- 
headed  old  planter  the  minute  before.  But  the  innate 
respect  of  the  essentially  fighting  negro  for  a  resolute 
opponent  held  him  back  deUberating  for  a  moment ;  and 
he  drew  down  his  cutlass  as  quickly  as  he  had  raised  it, 
divided  in  mind  whether  to  strike  or  permit  a  parley. 

Harry  Noel  seized  the  occasion  with  intuitive  strategy. 
'Here  you,  my  friends,'  he  cried  boldly,  turning  round 
towards  the  cowering  Orange  Grove  servants — '  is  this  the 
way  you  defend  your  master  ?  Pick  him  up,  some  of  you 
— pick  him  up  this  minute,  I  tell  vou,  and  lay  him  out 
decently  on  the  sofa  over  yonder. — There,  there ;  don't  be 
afraid.  Not  one  of  these  confounded  rogues  and  cowards 
dares  to  touch  you  or  come  one  pace  nearer  you  as  long  as 
you're  doing  it.  If  he  does,  by  George  I  cutlass  or  no 
cutlass,  I'll  break  this  riding-whip  to  pieces,  I  tell  you, 
across  his  damned  black  back  as  soon  as  look  at  him.'  And 
he  brandished  the  whip  angrily  in  front  of  him,  towards  the 
mad  and  howling  group  of  angry  rioters,  held  at  bay  for 
the  moment  on  the  piazza  steps  by  that  sohtary  undis- 
mayed young  Englishman  with  his  one  frail  and  ridiculous 
weapon. 

The  rioters  howled  all  the  louder  at  his  words,  and 
leaped  and  grinned  and  chattered  and  gesticulated  like  wild 
beasts  behind  an  iron  railing;  but  not  one  of  them  ven- 
tured to  be  the  first  in  aiming  a  blow  with  his  deadly  imple- 
ment at  Harry  Noel.  They  only  yelled  once  more  incom- 
prehensibly in  their  deep  gutturals,  and  made  hideous  wild 
^rimacta,  and  waved  the'^  cutlasses  frantically  around  them 
with  horrible  inarticulate  negro  imprecations. 

But  Harry  stood  tliere  firm  and  unyielding,  facing  the 
madditird  crowd  with  his  imprrious  manner,  and  overawing 
them  in  spite  of  themselves  wit)  that  strange  power  of  a 
superior  race  over  the  infeiiur  m  such  critical  moments  ol 
intense  pasfiion. 

The  Orange  Grove  servants,  having  fresh  courage  put 
into  their  failinp:  brf>astR  once  more,  by  the  inspiring 
presence  of  a  white  man  at  their  sides,  and  being  true  at 
heart  to  their  poor  ma^  ter,  as  n  jro  house- servants  always 

And  ftlways  have  been  in  the  worst  extremitiei»  took 


or  ALL  STTADES 


257 


advantage  of  the  momentanr  lull  in  tli^^  ntorm  to  do  as 
Harry  told  them,  and  lift  Mr.  Dupu^'s  body  up  ti-cim  ihe 
ground,  laying  it  carefully  on  the  piazza  sofa.  '  That's 
better/  Harry  said,  as  tlicy  finished  their  task. — •  Now,  we 
must  go  on  and  drive  away  these  murderous  rascals.  If  we 
don't  drive  them  away,  my  good  friends,  they'll  kill  Miss 
Norii — wJGy'U  kill  Miss  Nora.  Would  you  have  it  said  of 
you  tha«  you  let  a  parcel  of  murderous  plantation  rioters 
kill  your  own  dead  ma&ter's  daughter  right  before  your 
very  faces  ?  * 

A3  he  spoke,  he  saw  a  pale  face,  pale,  not  with  fear,  but 
with  terrible  anger,  standing  mute  and  immovtiblo  beside 
him ;  and  next  moment  he  heard  Nora  Dupuy's  voice 
crying  out  deeply,  in  the  very  echo  of  h*s  own  angry 
words :  •  Cowards,  cowards ! ' 

At  the  sight  of  the  hated  Dupuy  fertures,  the  frenzied 
plantation  hands  seemed  to  work  themselves  up  into  a 
fresh  access  of  ungovernable  fury.  With  indescribable 
writhings  and  mouthings  and  grimaces,  their  hatred  and 
vengeance  found  articulate  voice  for  a  moment  at  least,  and 
they  cried  aloud  like  one  man  :  '  Kill  her — kill  her !  Kill 
de  missy  I    Kill  her — kill  her  I ' 

*  Give  me  a  pistol,'  Harry  Noel  exclaimed  wildly  to  the 
friendly  negroes  close  behind  his  back :  •  a  gun — a  knife — 
a  outlass— anything  I ' 

*  We  got  nuflin,  sah,'  Uncle  'Zekiel  answered,  blankly 
and  whiningly,  now  helpless  as  a  child  before  the  sudden 
inundation  of  armed  rioters,  for  without  his  master  he 
could  do  nothing. 

Harry  looked  around  him  dosneratcly  for  a  moment, 
then,  advancing  a  stop  with  Inibty  premeditation,  he 
wrenched  a  cutlass  suddenly  by  an  unexpected  snatch 
from  one  of  the  foremost  batch  of  rioters,  and  stepped 
back  with  it  once  more  unhurt,  as  if  by  miracle,  into  the 
narrow  pass  of  the  mahogany  doorway. 

*  Stand  away.  Miss  Dupuy  I  *  he  cried  to  her  earnestly. 
*  If  you  value  your  hfe,  stand  back,  stand  back,  I  beg  of  you. 
This  is  no  place  for  you  to-ni;^ht.  Run,  run  !  If  you  don't 
escape,  there'U  be  more  mmder  done  presently.' 

'  I  shall  not  go,'  Nora  answered,  clenching  her  fist  hard 


-'■ll 


9M 


IN  ALL  BTTATiEH 


and  knitting  her  brows  sternly, '  as  long  ag  one  of  these 
abominable  wretches  dares  to  stop  without  permission  upon 
my  father's  piazza.' 

'  Then  stand  away,  you  there  t '  Harry  shouted  aloud  to 
the  surging  mob ;  *  stand  away  this  moment,  every  one  of 
you!  "Whoever  steps  one  single  step  nearer  this  lady 
behind  me,  by  Heaven,  I'll  hack  him  down  without  pity 
that  minute,  as  you'd  hack  down  a  stinging  cactus  tree  I ' 

Dclgado  stood  still  and  hesitated  once  more,  with  strange 
irresolution — he  didn't  like  to  hit  the  brown  man — but 
Isaac  Pourtal^s,  hfting  his  cutlass  wildly  above  his  head, 
took  a  step  in  front  and  brought  it  down  with  a  fierce 
swish  towards  Harry's  skull,  in  spite  of  kinship.  Harry 
parried  it  dexterously  with  his  own  cutlass,  hke  a  man  who 
has  learned  what  fencing  means  ;  and  then,  rushing,  mad 
with  rage,  at  the  astonished  Isaac  before  he  knew  what  to 
look  for,  brought  down  a  heavy  blow  upon  his  right 
shoulder,  that  disabled  his  opponent  outright,  and  made 
him  drop  at  once  his  useless  weapon  idly  by  his  side. 

•  Take  that,  you  damned  nigger  dog  I '  Harry  hissed  out 
fiercely  through  his  close-set  teeth ;  *  and  if  any  other  con- 
founded nigger  among  you  all  dares  to  take  a  single  step 
nearer  in  the  same  direction,  he'll  get  as  much  and  more, 
too,  than  this  insolent  fellow  here  has  got  for  his  trouble.' 

The  contemptuous  phrase  once  more  roused  all  the 
negroes'  anger.  •  Who  you  call  nigger,  den  ?  '  they  cried 
out  fiercely,  leaping  in  a  body  like  wild  beasts  upon  him. 

*  Kill  him — kill  him  I  Him  doan't  fit  to  live.  Kill  him — 
kill  him,  dis  minute — kill  him ! ' 

But  Delgado,  some  strange  element  of  compassion  for 
the  remote  blood  of  his  own  race  still  rising  up  instinctively 
and  mysteriously  within  him,  held  back  the  two  or  three 
foremost  among  the  pressing  mass  with  his  sinewy  arm. 
'  No,  no,  roe  fren'a,'  he  shouted  angrily,  '  doan't  kill  him, 
doan't  kill  him.  Tiger  no  eat  tiger,  ole-time  folk  say ;  tiger  no 
eat  tiger.  Him  is  nigger  himself.  Him  is  Isaac  Pourtalds' 
owii  cousin. — Doan't  kill  him.  His  mudder  doan't  nobody,  I 
tell  you,  me  fren's,  but  coloured  gal,  de  same  as  yours  is 
— coloured  gal  from  ole  Barbadoes.  I  sayin'  to  you,  me 
firen's,  ole-time  folk  has  true  proverb,  tiger  no  eal  tiger.' 


m  ALL  SHADES 


sn 


The  sea  of  angry  black  fEtoes  swelled  np  and  down 
wildly  and  dubiouslv  for  a  moment,  and  then,  with  the 
sudden  fitful  changemlneijs  of  negro  emotion,  two  or  three 
voices,  the  women's  especially,  called  aloud,  with  sobs  and 
shrieks :  '  Doan't  kill  him--doan't  lull  him !  Him  me 
brudder — ^him  me  brudder.  Doan't  kill  him  1  Hallelujah ! ' 

Harry  looked  at  them  savagely,  with  knit  brows  and 
firm-set  teeth,  his  outlass  poised  ready  to  strike  in  one 
hand,  and  his  whole  attitude  that  of  a  forlorn  hope  at  bay 
against  overwhelming  and  irresistible  numbers. 

'  You  black  devils  i '  be  cried  out  fiercely  flinging  the 
words  in  their  faces,  as  it  were,  with  a  concentrated  power 
of  insult  and  hatred,  *  I  won't  owe  my  life  to  that  shameful 
plea,  you  infernal  cowards.  Perhaps  I  may  have  a  drop 
or  two  of  your  danmed  black  blood  flowing  somewhere  in 
my  veins  somehow,  and  perhaps  I  mayn't  again  ;  but 
whether  I  have  or  whether  I  haven't,  I  wouldn't  for  dear 
life  itself  acknowledge  kindred  with  such  a  pack  of  cowardly 
vagabonds  and  murderers  as  you,  who  would  hack  an  old 
man  brutally  to  death  like  that,  before  his  o^vn  poor 
daughter's  face,  helplessly,  upon  his  own  staircase.' 

'  Mr.  Nofl,'  Nora  echoed,  in  a  clear  defiant  tone, 
nothing  trembling,  from  close  behind  him,  '  that  was  well 
said — that  was  bravely  spoken  1  Let  them  come  on  and 
kill  us  if  they  will,  the  wretches.  We're  not  afraid  of 
them,  we're  not  afraid  of  them.' 

'  Miss  Dupuy,'  Harry  cried  earnestly,  looking  back 
towards  her  with  a  face  of  eager  entreaty,  '  save  yourself! 
for  God's  sake,  save  yourself.  There's  still  time  even  now 
to  escape — by  the  garden  gate — to  Hawthorn's — while 
these  wretches  here  are  busy  murdering  me.' 

At  the  word,  Louis  Delgado  sprang  forward  once  more, 
outlass  in  hand,  no  longer  undecided,  and  with  one  blow 
on  the  top  of  the  head  felled  Harry  Noel  heavily  to  the 
ground. 

Nora  shrieked,  and  fainted  instantly. 

'  Him  doan't  dead  yet,'  Delgado  yelled  aloud  in  devilish 
exultation,  lifting  his  cutlass  again  with  savage  persistence. 
'  Haok  him  to  pieces,  dar— hack  him  to  pieces  I  Him 
doan'i  dead  yet,  I  tellin'  yuu,  me  fren's.    Haok  him  to 


160 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


pieces  t  An'  when  him  dead,  we  gwine  to  carrj  him  an* 
de  missy  'm'  Massa  Dupuy  out  behind  dar,  and  bum  dem 
all  in  a  pile  togedder  on  de  hot  ashes  ob  de  smokin'  oane> 
house  I ' 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Beforb  the  yelling  mob  ^ould  close  again  round  Harry 
Noel's  fallen  body,  with  their  wlIJ  ?jnslaught  of  upraised 
cutlasses,  more  dangerous  to  one  another  in  the  thick 
press  than  to  the  prostrate  Englishman  or']to  poor  faintin<< 
and  unconscious  Nora,  another  hasty  clatter  of  horses' 
hoofs  burst  upon  them  from  behind,  up  the  hilly  pathway, 
and  a  loud,  clear,  commanding  voice  called  out  in  resonant 
tonen  that  overtopped  and  stilled  for  a  moment  the  tumul- 
tuous murmur  of  negro  shrieks  :  *  In  the  Queen's  name — 
in  the  Queen's  name,  hold  ;  disperse  there ! ' 

That  familiar  adjuration,  so  comparatively  powerless 
upon  an  English  mob  at  home  in  England,  acted  like 
magic  on  the  fierce  and  half-naked  throng  of  ignorant  and 
superstitious  plantation  negroes.  It  was  indeed  to  them  a 
mighty  word  to  conjure  witli,  that  loud  challenge  in  the 
name  of  the  great  distant  Queen,  whose  reality  seemed  as 
far  away  from  them  and  as  utterly  removed  from  their 
little  sphere  as  heaven  itself.  They  dropped  their  cutlasses 
instantaneously,  for  a  brief  moment  of  doubt  and  hesita- 
tion ;  a  few  voices  still  shouted  fiercely,  •  Kill  him — kill 
him  1  *  and  then  a  unanimous  cry  arose  among  all  the 
surging  mass  of  wild  and  scowling  black  hnmanity :  '  Mr. 
Hawtom,  Mr.  Hawtom !  Him  come  in  Missis  Queen 
name,  so  gib  us  wamin'.  Now  us  gwine  to  get  justice. 
Mr.  Hawtom,  Mr.  Hawtom  I  * 

But  while  the  creole-bom  plantation  hands  thus  wel- 
comed eagerly  what  they  looked  upon,  in  their  simplicity, 
as  the  Queen's  direct  mouthpiece  and  representative,  Loms 
Delgado,  his  face  distorted  with  rage,  and  his  arms  plying 
his  cutlass  desperately,  frowned  and  gnashed  his  teeth 
more  fiercely  than  ever  with  rage  and  disappointment; 
for  his  wild  African  passion  was  now  fully  aroused,  and* 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


aei 


like  the  tiger  that  has  onee  tasted  blood,  ho  didn't  want 
to  be  balked  of  the  final  vengeful  delight  of  hacking  his 
helpless  victim  slowly  to  pieces  in  a  long-drawn  torture. 

*  Missis  Queen  1 '  he  oried  contemptuously,  turning  round 
and  brandishing  his  cutlass  with  savage  joy  once  more 
before  the  eyes  of  his  half-sobered  companions — *  Missis 
Queen,  him  say  dar !  Ha,  ha,  what  him  say  dat  for  ? 
What  de  Queen  to  me,  I  want  you  tell  me  ?  I  doan't 
care  for  Queen,  or  judge,  or  magistrate,  or  nuffin  I  I 
gwine  to  kill  all  de  white  men  togedder,  in  all  Trinidad, 
de  Lard  helpin'  me !  * 

As  he  spoke,  Edward  Hawthorn  jumped  hastily  from 
his  saddle,  and  advanced  with  long  strides  towards  the 
fiercely  gesticulating  and  mumbling  African.  The  plan- 
tation negroes,  cowed  and  tamed  for  the  moment  by 
Edward's  bold  and  resolute  presence,  and  overawed  by 
the  great  name  of  that  mysterious,  unknown,  half-mythi- 
cal Queen  Victoria,  beyond  the  vast  illimitable  ocean,  fell 
back  sullenly  to  right  and  left,  and  made  a  little  lane 
through  the  middle  of  the  crowd  for  the  Queen's  represen- 
tative to  mount  the  staircase.  Edward  strode  up,  without 
casting  a  single  glance  on  either  side,  to  where  Delgado 
stood  savagely  beside  Harry  Noel's  fallen  body,  and  put 
his  right  hand  with  an  air  of  indisputable  authority  upon 
the  frantic  African's  uplifted  arm.  Delgado  tried  to  shako 
him  oflf  suddenly  with  a  quick,  adroit,  convulsive  move- 
ment ;  but  Edward's  grip  was  tight  and  vice-hke,  and  he 
held  the  black  arm  powerless  in  his  grasp,  as  he  spoko 
aloud  a  few  words  m  some  unknown  language,  whicli 
sounded  to  the  group  of  wondering  negroes  hke  utter 
gibberish — or  perhaps  some  strange  spell  with  which  the 
representative  of  Queen  Victoria  knew  how  to  conjure  by 
some  still  more  potent  and  terrible  obeah  than  even 
Delgado's. 

But  Louis  Delgado  alone  knew  that  the  words  were 
pure  Arabic,  and  that  Edward  Hawthorn  grasped  his  arm 

*  in  the  name  of  Allah,  the  All-wise,  the  most  Powerful ! ' 

At  the  sound  of  that  mighty  spell,  a  terrible  one, 
indeed,  to  the  fierce  old  half-Cbristianised  Mohammedan, 
Delgado's  arm,  too,  drop^iiid  po\'eiksd  to  his  trembling 


J 


2flS 


nr  ALL  SHADM8 


skle,  and  he  fell  back,  gnashing  his  teeth  like  a  ball-dog 
br'iiked  of  a  fight,  into  the  general  mass  of  plantation 
negroes.  There  he  stood,  dazed  and  stunned  apparently, 
leaning  up  sulkily  against  the  piazza  post,  but  speaking 
not  a  word  to  either  party  for  good  or  for  evil. 

The  lull  was  but  lor  a  minute  ;  and  Edward  Hawthorn 
saw  at  once  that  if  he  was  to  gain  any  permanent  advan- 
tage by  the  momentary  change  of  feeling  in  the  fickle 
n^^gro  mob,  he  must  keep  their  attention  distracted  for  a 
while,  till  their  savage  passions  had  time  to  cool  a  little, 
and  the  effect  of  this  unwonted  orgy  of  fire  and  bloodslied 
had  passed  away  before  the  influence  of  sober  reflection. 
A  negro  crowd  is  like  a  single  creature  of  impulse — swayed 
to  and  fro  a  hundred  times  more  easily  than  even  a 
European  mob  by  every  momentary  passing  wave  of  anger 
or  of  feeling, 

*  Take  up  Mr.  Noel  and  Miss  Dupuy,'  he  said  aside, 
in  his  cool,  commanding  tone,  to  the  Orange  Grove  ser- 
vants : — *  Mr.  Noel  isn't  dead — I  see  him  breathing  yet — 
and  lay  them  on  a  bed  and  look  after  them,  while  I  speak 
to  these  angry  people.'  Then  he  irned,  mastering  him- 
self with  an  effort  for  that  terriuie  crisis,  and  taking  a 
chair  from  the  piazza,  he  mounted  it  quickly,  and  began  to 
speak  in  a  loud  voice,  unbroken  by  a  single  tremor  of  fear, 
like  one  addressing  a  pubhc  meeting,  to  the  great  sea  of 
wondering,  upturned  black  faces,  lighted  up  from  behind  in 
lurid  gleams  by  the  red  glare  of  the  still  blazing  cane- 
houses. 

*  My  friends,'  he  said,  holding  his  hand  before  him, 
palm  outward,  in  a  mute  appeal  for  silence  and  a  fair 
hearing,  '  listen  to  me  for  a  moment.  I  want  to  speak  to 
you :  I  want  to  help  you  to  what  you  yourselves  are 
blindly  seeking.  I  am  here  to-night  as  Queen  Victoria's 
delegate  and  representative.  Queen  Victoria  has  your 
welfare  and  interest  at  heart ;  and  she  has  sent  me  out  to 

'  this  island  to  do  equal  justice  between  black  man  and 
white  man,  and  to  see  that  no  one  oppresses  another  by 
force  or  fraud,  by  lawlessness  or  cunning.  As  you  all 
know,  I  am  in  part  a  man  of  your  own  blood  ;  and  Queen 
Victoria,  in  sending  me  out  tu  judge  between  you,  and  in 


IN  ALL   SHADES 


SA8 


iim, 

fair 

He  to 

are 

Iria's 

•our 

it  to 

and 

by 

all 

leen 

in 


appointing  so  many  of  your  own  race  to  posts  of  honour 
here  in  Trinidad,  has  shown  her  wish  to  favour  no  one 
particular  class  or  colour  to  the  detriment  or  humiliation 
of  the  others.  But  in  doing  as  I  see  you  have  done 
to-night — in  burning  down  factories,  in  attacking  houses, 
in  killing  or  trying  to  kill  your  own  employers,  and  help- 
less women,  and  men  who  have  done  no  crime  against 
you  except  trying  to  protect  your  victims  from  your  cruol 
vengeance — in  doing  this,  my  friends,  yon  liave  not  done 
wisely.  That  is  not  the  way  to  get  what  yoa  want  from 
Queen  "Victoria. — What  is  it  you  want  ?  Tell  mo  that. 
That  is  the  first  thing.  If  it  is  anything  reasonable, 
the  Queen  will  grant  it.  What  do  you  want  from  Queen 
Victoria?' 

With  on^  voice  the  whole  crowd  of  lurid  upturned  black 
faces  answered  loudly  and  earnestly :  '  Justice,  justice ! ' 

Edward  paused  a  moment,  with  rhetorical  skill,  and 
looked  down  at  the  mob  of  shouting  lips  with  a  face  half 
of  sternness  and  half  of  benevolence.  '  My  friends,'  ho 
said  again,  'you  shall  have  justice.  You  haven't  always 
had  it  in  the  past — that  I  know  and  regret ;  but  you  shall 
have  it,  trust  me,  henceforth  in  the  future.  Listen  to  me. 
I  know  you  have  often  suffered  injustice.  Your  rights  have 
not  been  always  respected,  and  your  feelings  have  many 
times  been  ruthlessly  trampled  upon.  Nobody  sympa- 
thises with  you  more  fully  than  I  do.  But  just  because 
I  sympathise  with  you  so  greatly,  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  warn 
you  most  earnestly  against  acting  any  longer  as  you  have 
been  acting  this  evening.  I  am  your  friend  —you  know  I 
am  your  friend.  From  me,  I  trust  you  have  never  had 
anything  less  than  equal  justice.' 

*  Dat's  true^-dat's  true  I '  rang  in  a  murmuring  wave 
of  assent  from  the  eager  listening  crowd  of  negroes. 

•  Well,'  Edward  went  on,  lowering  his  tone  to  more 
persuasive  accents,  •  be  advised  by  mo,  then,  and  if  you 
want  to  get  what  you  ask  from  Queen  Victoria,  do  as  1 
tell  you.  Disperse  to-night  quietly  and  separately.  Don't 
go  off  in  a  body  together  and  talk  with  one  another  ex- 
citedly around  your  watch-fires  about  your  wrongs  and 
your  grievances.    Bum  no  more  factories  and  cane-houses. 


2C4 


TN  ALL  SHADES 


Attack  no  more  h(>!;)1css  men  and  innocent  women.  Think 
no  more  of  your  rights  for  the  present.  But  go  each  man 
to  his  own  hut,  and  wait  to  see  %Yhat  Queen  Victoria  will 
do  for  you. — If  you  continue  foolishly  to  bum  and  riot, 
shall  I  tell  you  in  plain  words  what  will  happen  to  you  ? 
The  Governor  will  be  obliged  to  bring  out  the  soldiers  and 
the  volunteers  against  you  ;  they  will  call  upon  you,  as  I 
call  upon  you  now,  in  the  Queen's  name,  to  lay  down 
your  pistols,  and  your  guns,  and  your  cutlasses ;  and  if  you 
don't  lay  them  do^vn  at  once  they'll  fire  upon  you,  and  disperse 
you  easily.  Don't  be  deceived.  Don't  believe  that  because 
you  are  more  numerous — because  there  are  so  many  more 
of  you  than  of  the  white  men — you  could  conquer  them 
and  kill  them  by  main  force,  if  it  ever  came  to  open  fight- 
ing. The  soldiers,  with  their  regular  drill  and  their  good 
arms  and  their  constant  training,  could  shoot  you  all  down 
with  the  greatest  ease,  in  spite  of  your  numbers  and  vour 
pistols  and  your  cutlasses.  I  don't  say  this  to  frighten 
you  or  to  threaten  you ;  I  say  it  as  your  friend,  because  I 
don't  want  you  foolishly  to  expose  yourselves  to  such  a 
terrible  butchery  and  slaughter. 

A  murmur  went  through  the  crowd  once  more,  and 
they  looked  dubiously  and  inquiringly  towards  Louis 
Delgado.  But  the  African  gave  no  sign  and  made  no 
answer :  he  merely  stood  sullenly  still  by  the  post  against 
which  he  was  leaning  ;  so  Edward  hastened  to  reassure  the 
undecided  mob  of  listening  negroes  by  turning  quickly  to 
the  other  side  of  the  moot  question. 

'  Now  listen  again,'  he  said,  *  for  what  I'm  going  to 
say  to  you  now  is  very  important.  If  you  will  disperse, 
and  go  each  to  his  own  home,  without  any  fm'ther  trouble 
or  riot,  1  will  undertake,  myself,  to  go  to  England  on 
purpose  for  you,  and  tell  Queen  Victoria  herself  about  all 
your  troubles.  I  will  tell  her  that  you  haven't  always  been 
justly  treated,  and  I'll  try  to  get  new  and  better  laws  made 
in  future  for  you,  under  which  you  may  secure  more  justice 
than  you  sometimes  get  under  present  arrangements.  Do 
yon  imderstand  me  ?  If  you  go  home  at  once,  I  promise 
to  go  across  the  sea  and  speak  to  Queen  Victoria  herself  on 
your  behalf,  over  in  England.' 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


2CA 


The  view  of  British  constitutional  procedure  implied  in 
Edward  Hawthorn's  words  was  not  perhaps  strictly  accu- 
rate ;  but  his  negro  hearers  would  hardly  have  felt  so  much 
impressed  if  he  had  offered  to  lay  their  grievances  boldly 
at  the  foot  of  that  impersonal  entity,  the  Colonial  OfiQce  ; 
while  the  idea  that  they  were  to  have  a  direct  spokesman, 
partly  of  their  own  blood,  with  the  Queen  herself,  flattered 
their  simple  A&ican  susceptibiUties  and  helped  to  cool  their 
savage  anger.  Like  children  as  they  are,  they  began  to 
smile  and  show  their  great  white  teeth  in  infantile  sati:.^- 
faction,  as  pleasantlv  as  though  they  had  never  dreamt 
ten  minutes  earUer  of  hacking  Harry  Noel's  body  fiercely 
into  Uttle  pieces ;  and  more  than  one  voice  cried  out  in 
hearty  tones :  *  Hoorrah  for  Mr.  Hawtom  1  Him  de  black 
man  fren'.  Gib  him  a  cheer,  boys  I  Him  gwine  to  'peak 
for  us  to  Queen  Victoria  ! ' 

'Then  promise  me  faithfully,'  Edward  said,  holding 
out  his  hand  once  more  before  him,  'that  you'll  all  go 
home  this  very  minute  and  settle  down  quietly  in  your  own 
houses.' 

'  We  promise,  sah,'  a  dozen  voices  answered  eagerly. 

Edward  Hawthorn  turned  anxiously  for  a  moment  to 
Louis  Delgado.  '  My  brother,'  he  said  to  him  ra{  idly  in 
Arabic, '  this  is  your  doing.  You  must  help  me  i.ow  to 
quiet  the  people  you  have  first  so  fiercely  and  so  foolishly 
excited.  Assist  me  in  dispersing  them,  and  I  will  "^^ry  to 
lighten  for  you  the  punishment  which  will  surely  be 
ii^cted  upon  you  as  ringleader,  when  this  is  all  over.' 

But  Delgado,  propped  in  a  stony  attitude  against  the 
great  wooden  post  of  the  piazza,  answered  still  never  a 
word.  He  stood  there  to  all  appearance  in  stolid  and 
sullen  indifference  to  all  that  was  passing  so  vividly  around 
him,  with  his  white  and  bloodshot  eyes  staring  vacantly 
into  the  blank  darkness  that  stretched  in  front  of  him, 
behind  the  fiickering  hght  of  the  now  collapsed  and  burnt- 
out  cane-houses. 

Edward  touched  him  hghtly  on  his  bare  arm.  To  his 
utter  horror  and  amazement,  though  not  cold,  it  was  soft 
and  corpse-like,  as  in  the  first  hour  of  death,  before  rigidity 
and  chilliness  have  begun  to  set  in.    He  looked  up  into  the 


I 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


bloodshot  eyes.  Thoir  staring  balls  soemed  already  glar.ed 
ar.d  vacuous,  utterly  vacant  of  the  iiorco  flashing  light 
that  had  gloainoil  from  tho  pupils  so  awfully  and  savagtdv 
but  ten  niinutos  buforo,  as  he  brandlRhcd  his  cutlass  wiili 
frantic  yolls  abovo  Harry  Noel's  fallen  body.  Two  of  the 
plantation  nogroes,  atfrmUul  by  Edward's  evident  recoil  of 
horror,  canio  forwuid  with  simple  curiosity,  flingin<^  down 
thoir  cuthii'.sos,  and  louched  the  soft  checks,  not  with  the 
rovuront  touch  wliich  a  white  man  feels  always  due  to  the 
sacrcdnoHS  of  doatii,  but  harshly  and  rudely,  as  one  might 
auy  day  touch  a  senseless  piece  of  stone  or  timber. 

Edward  looked  at  th(>m  with  a  pallid  face  of  mute 
inquiry.  Tho  youngest  of  tho  two  negroes  drew  back  for  a 
second,  overtaken  apparently  by  a  superstitious  fear,  and 
murnnirod  low  in  an  awestruck  voice :  *  Him  dead,  nah, 
dead — stone  dead.  Dead  dis  ten  minute,  since  ever  you 
begin  to  'peak  to  de  people,  sail.' 

Ho  was  indeed.  His  suppressed  rage  at  the  partial 
failure  of  his  deeply  chorishod  scheme  of  vengeance  on  the 
hated  white  men,  coming  so  close  upon  his  paroxysm  of 
triumph  over  the  senseless  bodies  of  Mr.  Dupuy  and  Harry 
Noel,  had  brought  about  a  sudden  fit  of  cardiac  apoplexy. 
The  old  African's  savage  heart  had  burst  outriglit  with 
coufliotiug  emotions.  iiOanlng  back  upon  the  pillar  for 
support,  as  he  felt  the  bluod  failing  within  him,  he  had  died 
suddenly  and  iniobsorved  without  a  word  or  a  cry,  and  had 
stood  there  still,  as  men  will  often  stand  under  similar 
circunistan<  es,  propped  up  against  the  supportinij  pillar,  in 
the  exact  attitude  in  which  death  had  iirst  overtaken  him. 
In  tho  very  crisis  of  his  victory  and  his  defeat,  he  had  been 
called  away  suddeiiy  to  answer  for  liis  conduct  before  even 
a  higher  tribimal  than  the  one  with  which  Edward  Haw- 
thorn had  so  gently  a  ad  forbearingly  threatened  him. 

The  eil'eot  of  this  kiudden  catastrophe  upon  the  impres- 
sionable minds  of  the  excited  negroes  was  indeed  immediate 
and  overwhelmirig.  Lifting  up  their  voices  in  loud  wails 
and  Iioening,  as  at  their  midnight  wakes,  they  cried 
tremulously  one  after  another:  *  De  Lard  is  against  us — 
de  Lard  is  agaijst  us !  Ebbery  man  to  vour  tents,  0 
If  rati  !    De  liard  Jiiab  Lilltid  Dulj^udo — Lab  IuUmI  Delgado 


rK  ALL  STTABKlt 


wn 


— hab  nnitten  him  down,  for  da  murder  him  eommittod  f ' 
To  their  unquestioning  antique  faith,  it  wan  tlio  viHiblo 
judgment  of  heaven  ft^'^ainHt  their  iriHurrection,  the  blood 
of  Theodore  Dupuy  and  Harry  Noel  crying  out  lor  vori^'oimce 
from  the  floor  of  the  pia/za,  like  the  blood  of  ri(^Miioous 
Abel  long  before,  crying  out  for  vengeance  from  tlm  soil  of 
Eden. 

More  than  one  of  them  believed  in  bin  heart,  t'^'O,  that 
the  myHteriouB  words  »n  tlie  unknown  langufj.^o  wliiih 
Edward  Hawthorn  liad  muttered  ovor  the  old  Afri<!in  wuro 
the  spell  that  had  brought  down  upon  hiin  beforn  tlu'ir 
very  eyes  the  unneen  bolt  of  the  invisible  powers.  Wlnthor 
it  was  obcah,  or  whether  it  was  iinprer  ation  and  Holemn 
prayer  to  the  God  of  heaven,  th^y  thought  within  theniHelvcs, 
m  their  dim,  inarticulate,  unspoken  fasliion,  ti)at  *  Mr. 
Hawtorn  word  bring  down  de  judgment  dat  very  minute  on 
Louis  Delgr.do.' 

In  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time,  the  great  crowd 
of  UacV  faces  had  molted  away  as  quickly  an  it  carno,  and 
Edward  Hawthorn  was  loft  alone  in  the  piaz/a,  witln  none 
but  the  tet;.ified  servants  of  the  Orange  Grove  household 
to  hp\j  him  in  bis  task  or  i,o  listen  to  liis  orders.  All  tliat 
night  long,  across  the  dark  gorge  and  tho  black  mango 
grove,  they  could  hear  tho  tei  rifled  voiecs  of  tlie  negroes  in 
their  huts  singing  hymns,  and  crying  aloud  in  st range 
prayers  to  God  in  heaven  that  the  guilt  of  this  mnrdr'r 
might  not  be  visited  upon  their  hearb,  a^  it  Inid  been 
visited  before  their  very  eyes  that  night  on  Louis  Delgado. 
To  the  negro  mind,  the  verdict  of  fate  is  the  verdict  of 
heaven. 

*  Take  up  his  body,  too,  and  lay  it  down  on  the  sofa,* 
Edward  laifl  to  Unele  'Zeldel,  still  beside  himKclf  witli 
terror  at  the  manifold  horroni  of  this  tragical  evening. 

*I  doan't  can  dare,  sah,'  Uncle  'Zokiol  answered 
tremulously—*  I  doan't  can  dare  lay  me  iiand  upon  do 
corpse,  I  tellin*  you,  sah.  De  finger  ob  de  Lard  has  smite 
Delgado.     I  doan't  dare  to  lift  an'  carry  him.' 

*  One  of  you  bovB,  then,  come  and  help  nie,'  Edward 
(tried,  holding  ap  tnt  eerpit  with  one  hand  to  keep  it  from 
falling. 


rv  ALL  fjn.iDKf^ 


Dal  not  one  of  them  dare  move  a  singlo  stop  nearer  to 
the  terrible  nwe-inspirinp:  object. 

At  Inst,  findinjij  that  no  lu'lp  was  forthcomin;?  on  any 
hand,  Edward  lifted  up  the  p:hastly  burden  all  by  himself 
in  his  own  arms,  and  laid  it  down  reveroiitly  and  gcnitlyon 
the  piazza  sofa.  •  It  is  bettor  so,'  he  murmured  to  himself 
slowly  and  pitifully.  '  Tlioro  will  be  no  more  blood  on 
(^itlier  side  shed  at  any  rate  for  this  awful  evening's  sorry 
business.* 

And  than  at  lenj^h  he  had  leisure  to  turn  back  into  the 
house  itself  and  make  inquiries  after  Mr.  Dupuy  and  Harry 
and  Nora. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

Marian  was  behind  in  the  dininj^  room  and  bedrooms  with 
Aunt  Clommy,  helping  to  nurse  and  tend  the  sick  and 
wounded  as  well  as  she  could,  in  the  midst  of  so  much 
turmoil  and  danger.  When  she  and  I'Mwaid  had  boon 
roused  by  the  sudden  glare  of  the  burning  cane-houses, 
reddening  the  horizon  by  Orange  Grove,  and  casting  weird 
and  fitful  shadows  from  all  the  mango  trees  in  front  of 
their  little  tangled  garden,  she  had  been  afraid  to  remain 
behind  alone  at  Mulberry,  and  had  preferred  facing  the 
niaddouod  rioters  by  her  husband's  side,  to  stopping  by 
herself  under  such  circumstances  among  the  unfamiliar 
black  servants  in  her  own  house.  So  they  had  ridden 
across  hurriedlv  to  the  Dupuys'  together,  especially  as 
Marian  was  no  loss  timid  on  Nora's  account  than  on  her 
own  ;  and  when  they  reached  the  little  garden  gate  that 
led  in  by  the  back  path,  she  had  slip]'od  up  alone,  unpor- 
ceived  by  the  mob,  while  Edward  went  round  openly  to 
the  front  door,  and  tried  to  appease  the  an^y  negroes. 

The  shouts  and  ^ells  when  she  first  arrived  luid  proved 
indeed  very  frightenmg  and  distracting  ;  but  after  a  time, 
she  could  guess,  from  the  comparative  silence  which 
ensued,  that  Edward  had  succeeded  in  gaining  a  hearing : 
and  then  she  and  Aunt  Cloniray  turned  with  fast-beating 
henrts  to  look  after  the  bleeding  victims,  one  of  whom  at 


m  ALL  BHADEB  Ml 

leMt  they  gara  ap  from  the  first  as  quite  dead  beyond  the 
reaoh  of  nope  or  recovery. 

Noru  was  naturally  the  firnt  to  come  to.  She  had 
fainted  only  ;  and  though,  in  tliu  crush  and  press,  she  had 
been  trampled  upon  and  very  roughly  handled  by  the  bare- 
footed negroes,  she  hod  got  off,  thanko  to  then:  shoeleHS 
condition,  with  little  worse  than  a  few  ugly  cuts  and 
bruises.  They  laid  her  tenderly  on  her  own  bed,  and  balliod 
her  brows  over  and  over  again  with  Cologne  water ;  till, 
after  a  few  minutes,  she  sat  up  again,  pule  and  deathly  to 
look  at,  but  proud  and  haughty  and  defiant  as  ever,  with 
her  eyes  burning  very  brightly,  and  an  angry  quiver  playing 
unchecked  about  her  bloodless  lips. 

'Is  he  dead?'  she  asked  calmly — aa  calmly  as  if  it 
were  the  most  ordinary  question  on  earth,  but  yet  with  a 
curious  tone  of  suppressed  emotion,  that  even  in  that 
terrible  moment  did  not  wholly  escape  Marian's  quick 
womanly  observation. 

'  Your  father  ?  '  Marian  answered,  in  a  low  voice. — 
'  Dear,  dear,  yon  mustn't  excite  vourself  now.  You  must 
be  quite  quiet,  perfectly  quiet.  You're  not  well  enough  to 
stand  any  talking  or  excitement  yet.  You  must  wait  to 
hear  about  it  all,  darling,  until  you're  a  little  better.' 

Nora's  lip  curled  a  trifle  as  she  answered  almost  dis- 
dainfully :  '  I'm  not  going  to  he  here  and  let  myself  be 
made  an  invalid  of,  while  those  creatures  there  are  out 
yonder  without  my  leave  still  on  the  piaz/a.  Let  me  got 
up  and  see  what  has  happened. — No  ;  I  didn't  mean  pupa, 
Marian ;  I  know  he's  dead ;  I  saw  him  lying  hacked  all  to 
piocei  outside  on  the  sofa.  I  meant  Mr.  Noel.  Have  tlu^ 
killed  him?  Have  they  killed  him  ?  Ue'i  a  brave  man. 
Have  the  wretches  killed  him  ? ' 

'  We  think  not,'  Marian  answered  dubiously.  *  He's 
in  the  next  room,  and  two  of  the  servants  are  tliere  taking 
cara  of  him.' 

Nora  rose  frt)m  the  bed  vnth  a  sudden  bound,  and  stood 
pale  and  white,  all  trembling  before  them.  '  What  are  you 
stopping  here  wasting  your  care  upon  me  for,  then  ?  '  slie 
asked  half  angrily.  *  You  think  not — think  not,  hidccMl  I 
Ii  ihia  a  time  to  be  thinking  and  hesitating  ?    Why  are 

18 


m  J  Lit  njnrswB 


jtm  leoking  afUr  woman  who  go  aad  get  (kintirc  f!ti,  IfYr* 
loolfl,  at  the  wrong  moment  ?  I'm  ashamed  ui  mjtalC 
almost,  for  giving  wu^  visibly  before  the  wretches — for 
letting  them  see  I  was  half  afraid  of  them.  But  I  wasn't 
afraid  of  them  for  myself,  though — not  a  bit  of  it,  Mariun  : 
it  WM  only  for — for  Mr.  Noel.'  She  aaid  it  after  a 
moment's  brief  hesitation,  but  without  the  faintest  touch 
of  girlish  timidity  or  ill-timed  reserve.  Then  she  swept 
queen-like  past  Marian  and  Aunt  Glemmy,  in  her  white 
dinner  dress — the  same  dress  that  she  had  worn  when  she 
was  Marian's  bridesmaid — and  walked  quickly  but  com- 
posedly, as  if  nothing  had  happened,  into  the  next  bed- 
room. 

The  two  negresaes  had  already  taken  off  Harry's  coat 
and  waistcoat,  and  laid  him  on  the  bed  with  his  shirt  front 
all  saturated  with  blood,  and  his  forehead  still  bleeding 
violently,  in  spite  of  their  efiforts  to  stanch  it  unskilfully 
with  a  wet  towel.  Ho  was  lying  there,  when  Nora  entered, 
stretched  out  at  full  length,  speechless  and  senseless,  the 
blood  even  then  oozing  slowly,  by  intermittent  gurgling 
throbs,  from  the  open  gash  across  his  right  temple.  There 
was  another  deeper  and  oven  worse  wound  gurghiig  simi- 
larly upon  his  left  elbow. 

'  They  should  have  been  here,'  Nora  cried ;  '  Marian 
and  Glemmy  should  have  been  here,  instead  of  looking 
after  me,  like  fools,  in  yonder. — Is  he  dead,  Nita?  Is  he 
dead?    Tell  met' 

'  No,  missy,'  ^he  girl  answeruvi,  passively  handing  lier 
tlie  soaked  towel.  '  Uim  doan't  dt^iad  yet;  but  him  dyin', 
him  dyin*.  De  blood  uomin'  out  ob  him,  spurt,  spurt, 
spurt,  so  hira  can't  lib  long,  not  anyway.  Uim  bleddei  to 
death  alroady,  I  tinldn',  a'most.' 

Nora  looked  at  the  white  face,  and  a  few  tears  began  at 
lust  to  form  slowly  in  her  brimming  eyelids.  But  nhe 
brushed  them  away  auickly,  before  they  had  time  to  trickle 
down  her  blanched  cheek,  for  her  proud  West  Indian  blood 
was  up  now,  as  much  as  the  negroes'  had  been  a  few 
minutes  earlier ;  and  she  twisted  her  handkerchief  round 
%  pockot  pencil  so  as  to  form  a  hasty  extemporised  tourni- 
quet, wbieh   ihe  fiuitened   bravely  and  resolutely  with 


i.V  ALL  8HADM§  III 

intuitivn  bkill  aluwe  lliu  o\Hn\  wound  on  the  left  elhow. 
Sho  had  noNMT  Hpcn  m  pIi  u  tliin;,'  ht'lnro,  and  sIir  coulihi't 
have  uaid  herHrll,  for  Uio  lit'u  of  her,  how  hIib  kiKtw  it 
would  prove  \jHi!rul.  Hlio  liad  no  idea,  evoi,  tliat  tl»o  httle 
ieta  in  wlihdi  tiio  Idnod  Hpiiited  out  bo  rliythniicaliy  wore 
nidiralivo  of  that  most  daiij^'crouH  wound,  a  fievcred  aitory  ; 
liiit  HJiH  f(dt.  inntinctively,  somehow,  that  this  waa  the  right 
tiling  to  do,  and  Hhe  did  it  without  flinchin<,%  as  if  she  had 
hteu  used  to  doaUn/^  familiarly  with  dan^^erous  wounds  for 
half  her  lifoiinio.  Tlicn  sho  twi.tod  the  hasty  instrument 
tightly  round  till  the  artery  was  Bocurcly  slopped,  and  the 
little  jets  ceaHcd  entirely  at  eacli  pulsation  of  the  now 
feeble  and  weakened  heart. 

•  Run  for  the  doctor,  somebody  I  *  she  cried  eagerly ; 
'  run  for  the  doctor,  or  he'li  die  outright  before  we  can  get 
help  for  him  I ' 

But  Nita  and  Rose,  on  their  knees  bosid*^  the  wounded 
man,  only  cowered  closer  to  the  bc.'dside,  and  shook  with 
terror  as  another  cry  rose  on  a  Hudden  tVoni  outside  from 
the  excuted  negroes.  It  was  the  cry  they  raised  when  they 
fomid  Dol'-^ado  was  reaJiy  struck  dead  befoi'o  their  very  eyea 
by  the  visible  and  immediaio  judgment  of  the  Almighty. 

Nora  looked  down  at  them  with  profoimd  contempt, 
and  merely  said,  in  her  resolute,  scornful  voice  '.  '  What  I 
afraid  oven  of  your  own  people  ?  Why,  I'm  not  afraid  of 
ihem ;  I,  who  am  a  white  woman,  and  whom  they'd  nurdor 
now  and  hack  to  pieces,  as  socn  as  they'd  look  at  mo.  if  once 
they  could  catch  me,  wiieti  tlieir  blood's  up! — Marian, 
Marian  I  you're  a  white  woman  ;  will  you  come  with  mo  ?  * 

Marian  trembled  a  little — she  wasn't  upheld  through 
that  terrible  «joi\e  by  the  in.irniined  hereditary  pride  of  a 
superior  race  before  the  blind  wrath  of  the  inferior, 
bequeathed  to  Nora  by  her  slave-owning  ancestors  ;  but  she 
answered  with  hardly  a  moment's  hositiition :  *  Yes,  Nora. 
If  you  wish  it,  I'll  go  with  you.' 

There  is  8ometlii)ii;  in  these  conflicts  of  race  with  race 
which  raises  the  women  of  the  higher  blood  for  the  time 
being  into  BomotLiiig  braver  and  stronger  than  women. 
In  England,  Marian  would  never  have  dared  to  go  out 
ulon<t  ux  Uio  fiLct^  of  such  a  raging  tumultuous  mob,  «vao 


97t 


tit  ALL  SHADES 


of  white  people;  bat  in  Trinidad,  under  the  infli  nee  of 
that  terrible  excitement,  she  found  heart  to  put  on  her  hat 
once  more,  and  step  forth  with  Nora  under  the  profound 
shade  of  the  spreadmg  mango-trees,  now  hardly  hghted  up 
at  all  at  fitful  intervals  by  the  dying  glow  &om  the  burnt- 
out  embers  of  the  smoking  cane-houses.  They  went  down 
groping  their  way  by  the  garden  path,  and  came  out  at  last 
upon  the  main  bridle-road  at  tho  foot  of  the  garden.  There 
Marian  drew  back  Nora  timidly  with  a  hand  placed  in  quick 
warning  upon  her  white  shoulder.  '  Stand  aside,  deai-,' 
she  whispered  at  her  ear,  pulling  her  back  hastily  within 
the  garden  gate  and  under  the  dark  shadow  of  the  big  star- 
apple  tree.  *  They're  coming  down — they're  coining  down  I 
I  hear  them,  I  hear  them  t  0  God,  0  God,  I  shouldn't 
have  come  away  I  They've  killed  Edward  I  My  darling, 
my  darling  t    They've  killed  him — they've  killed  him  I ' 

'I  wouldn't  stand  aside  for  myself,'  Nora  answered 
half  aloud,  her  eyes  flashing  proudly  even  in  the  shadowy 
gloom  of  the  garden.  '  But  to  save  Mr.  Noel's  life,  to  save 
his  life,  I'll  stand  aside  if  you  wish,  Marian.' 

As  they  drew  back  into  the  dark  shadow,  even  Nora 
trembling  and  shivering  a  little  at  the  tramp  of  so  many 
naked  feet,  some  of  the  negroes  passed  cloue  beside  them 
outside  the  fence  on  their  way  down  from  the  piazza,  where 
they  had  just  been  electrified  into  sudden  quietness  by  the 
awful  sight  of  Louis  Delgado's  dead  body.  They  were 
talki)ig  earnestly  and  low  among  themselves,  not,  as  before, 
shrieking  and  yeUing  and  gesticulating  wildly,  but  con- 
versing half  below  their  breath  in  a  solemn,  mysterious, 
awestruck  fashion. 

'  De  Lard  be  praise  for  Mr.  Hawtorn  I '  one  of  them 
Kaid  as  he  passed  unseen  close  beside  them.  '  Him  do 
black  man  fren*.  We  got  nobody  hke  him.  I  no'  would 
hurt  Mr.  Hawtorn,  de  blessed  man,  not  for  de  hfe  ob  me.' 

Marian's  heart  beat  fast  within  her,  but  she  said  never 
a  word,  and  only  pressed  Nora's  hand,  which  she  held 
convulsively  within  her  own,  harder  and  tighter  than  ever, 
in  her  mute  suspense  and  agony. 

Presently  another  group  passed  close  by,  and  another 
▼oioe  said  tremuloualy ;  *  Louiu  UulgaUo  ^uad — LouiH  Del* 


nt  ALL  8BADE9 


fli 


wonderful    man    for 
brudder,  who'd  have 


gado  dead  I  Mr.  Hawtom  is 
true  I  Who'd  have  touglit  it,  me 
tought  it  ? ' 

'  That's  Martin  Luther,'  Nora  cried  almost  aloud,  un- 
able any  longer  to  retain  her  curiosity.  •  I  know  him  by 
his  voice.  He  wouldn't  hurt  me. — Martin,  Martin  1  what's 
that  vou're  saying  ?  Has  Mr.  Hawthorn  shot  Dolgado  ?  ' 
As  she  spoke,  with  a  li<?rce  anticipatory  triunipli  in  her 
voice,  she  stepped  out  from  the  shadow  of  tlie  gate  on  to 
the  main  bridle-path,  in  her  white  dress  nnd  with  her  pale 
face,  clearly  visible  under  the  faint  moonli;;iit. 

Martin  flung  up  his  arras  like  one  stabljed  to  the  heart, 
and  shouted  wildly :  '  De  missy,  de  missy  I  Dem  done 
killed  her  on  de  piazza  yonder,  and  her  duppy  comin'  now 
already  to  scare  us  and  trouble  us  I ' 

Even  in  that  moment  of  awe  and  alarm,  Nora  laughed 
a  little  laugh  of  haughty  contempt  for  the  strong,  big- 
built,  hulking  negro's  superstitious  terror.  *  Martin  1  '  she 
cried,  darting  after  him  quickly,  as  he  ran  away  awestruck, 
and  catching  him  by  the  shoulder  with  her  light  but 
palpable  human  grasp,  'don't  you  know  me?  I'm  no 
duppy.  It's  me  myself.  Missy  Nora,  calling  you.  Here, 
feel  my  hand ;  you  see  I'm  alive  still ;  you  see  your  people 
haven't  killed  me  yet,  even  if  you've  killed  your  poor  old 
master.  Martin,  tell  me,  what's  this  you're  all  saying 
about  Mr.  Hawthorn  having  shot  Delgado  ?  * 

Martin,  shaking  violently  in  every  limb,  turned  round 
and  reassured  himself  slowly  that  it  was  really  Nora  and 
not  her  ghost  that  stood  bodily  before  hiin.  *  Ha,  missy,' 
he  answered  good-Jmmoure<lly,  showing  liis  grcnt  row  of 
big  white  teeth,  though  still  quaking  visibly  with  terror, 
•  don't  you  be  'fraid  ;  we  woukln't  hurt  you,  not  a  man  of 
us.  But  it  doan't  Mr.  Hawtom  dat  shot  Delgado  I  It  God 
Almighty  I     De  Lard  hab  smitten  liim  I  ' 

'  What  I '  Nora  cried  in  surprise.  *  He  fell  dead  ! 
Apoplexy  or  something,  I  suppose.  The  old  villain!  ho 
deserved  it,  Martin. — And  Mr.  Hawthorn?  How  about 
Mr.  Hawthorn  ?  Have  they  hurt  him  ?  Have  they  killed 
him?* 

*  Mr.  Hav7tom  np  to  de  house,  missy,  an'  all  de  niggers 


BP 


174 


IN  ALL  SEALEa 


pray  de  Lard  for  true  bim  lib  for  ebber,  de  blessed  creft- 
tore.' 

*  Why  are  YOU  all  coming  away  now,  then  ? '  Nora  asked 
anxiously.    •  Where  are  you  going  to  ? ' 

'  Mr.  Hawtom  send  us  home,'  Martin  answered  submis' 
s^ively ;  *  an*  we  are  all  'fraid,  if  we  doan't  go  straight  when 
him  tell  us,  we  drop  down  dcp.d  wit  Kara,  Datan,  an' 
Abiram,  an'  lyin'  Ananias,  same  like  Delgado.' 

'  Marian/  Nora  said  decisively,  '  go  back  to  your  hus- 
band. You  ought  to  bo  with  him. — Martin,  you  come 
along  with  me,  sir.  Mr.  Noel's  dying.  You've  killed  him, 
you  people,  like  you've  killed  my  father.  I've  got  to  go 
and  fetch  the  doctor  now  to  save  him ;  and  you've  got  to 
come  with  me  and  take  care  of  me.' 

•Oh,  darling,'  Marian  interrupted  nervously,  'you 
mustn't  go  alone  amongst  all  these  angry,  excited  negroes 
with  nobody  but  him.  Don't,  don't ;  I'll  gladly  go  with 
you  I* 

'  Do  as  I  tell  you  I  *  Nora  cried  in  a  tone  of  authority, 
with  a  firm  stamp  of  her  petulant  little  foot.  *  You  ought 
to  be  with  him.  You  mustn't  leave  him.  That's  right, 
dear.    Now,  then,  Martin  1 ' 

*  I  'fraid.  Missy.' 

*  Afraid  I  Nonsense.  You're  a  pack  of  cowards.  Am 
/  afraid  ?  and  I'm  a  woman  I  You  ought  to  be  asiianied 
of  yourself.  Gome  along  with  me  at  ouue,  and  do  as  I  tell 
you.' 

The  terrified  negro  yielded  grudgingly,  and  crept  after 
her  in  the  true  crouching  African  fashion,  compelled 
against  his  will  to  follow  implicitly  the  mere  bidding  of 
the  stronger  and  more  imperious  nature. 

Tbev  wound  down  the  zigzag  path  together,  under  the 
gaunt  shadows  of  the  overhanging  bamboo  clumps,  waving 
weirdly  to  and  fro  with  the  bree/o  in  the  feeble  moonhght 
— the  strong  man  slouching  along  timorously,  shaking  and 
starting  with  terror  at  every  rustle  of  Nora's  dress  against 
the  bracken  and  the  tree  forna  ;  the  Bliglit  girl  erect  and 
fearless,  walking  a  pace  oi'tw(>  in  front  of  her  ffdnt-hoarted 
Mcort  with  proud  Belf-rolifuico,  and  never  pausing  for  a 
•ingle  second  to  oubt  a  uauliuus  glauco  to  ri^jjit  or  left 


IN  ALL  aitADMB 


tfi 


among  the  tangled  brushwood.  The  lights  were  now  burn- 
ing dimly  in  aU  the  neighbouring  negro  oottaged  ;  and  far 
away  down  in  the  distance,  the  long  rows  of  gas  lamps  at 
Port-of- Spain  gleamed  double  with  elongated  oblique  refleo- 
tions  in  the  calm  water  of  the  sleepy  harbour. 

They  had  got  half-way  down  the  lonely  gully  without 
meeting  or  passing  a  single  soul,  when,  at  a  turn  of  the 
road  where  the  bridle-path  swept  aside  to  avoid  a  rainy- 
season  torrent,  a  horse  came  quickly  upon  them  from  in 
front,  and  the  rapid  chok  of  a  cocked  pistol  warned  Nora 
of  approaching  danger. 

'  Who  goes  there  ? '  cried  a  sharp  voice  with  a  marked 
Scotch  accent  from  the  gloom  before  her.  'Stop  thii 
minute,  or  I'll  fire  at  you,  you  nigger ) ' 

With  a  thrill  of  delight,  Nora  recognised  the  lon^'od-for 
voice — the  very  one  she  was  seeking.  It  was  Dr.  Macfar- 
lane,  from  beyond  the  gully,  roused,  like  half  tLv^  island, 
by  the  red  glare  from  the  Orange  Grove  cane-huuses,  and 
spurring  up  as  fast  as  his  horse  could  carry  him,  armed 
and  on  the  alert,  to  the  scene  of  the  supposed  insurrec- 
tion. 

'  Don't  shoot,*  Nora  answered  coolly,  holding  her  hand 
up  in  deprecation.  '  A  friend  I — It's  me.  Dr.  Macfarlane— 
Nora  Dupuy,  coming  to  meet  you.' 

'  Miss  Dupuy  I '  the  doctor  cried  in  astonishment. 
'  Then  they'll  not  have  shot  you,  at  any  rate,  yoimg  leddy  I 
But  what  are  you  doing  out  here  alone  at  this  time  o' 
nicht,  I'm  woiiiering  ?  Have  you  had  to  run  for  your  life 
from  Orange  Grove  Irom  these  cowardly  insurgent  niggtr 
fellows  ? ' 

•  Run  from  themf  Nora  echoed  oontumptuously — *run 
from  thtm!  Dr.  Macfarlane,  I'd  hke  In  loe  it  No,  no; 
I'm  too  much  of  a  Dupuy  ever  to  do  that,  I  pi  mise  you. 
doctor.  Thoy  can  murder  me,  but  they  can't  fr*ighten  me. 
I  was  coming  down  to  look  for  you,  for  poor  Mr.  Noel, 
who's  lying  dungurously  wounded  up  at  our  house,  with  a 
wound  on  the  arm  and  a  terrible  cut  across  the  temple.' 

*  Ooming  alono  just  in  tlie  vera  midst  of  all  this  busi- 
ness— to  fetcli  mi'  f o  look  after  a  wouiuied  fallow  !  '  the 
doctor  ejaculated  hail  M>  himself,  with  mingled  astouish- 


17ft 


XN  ALL  SBADSa 


H 


ment  and  admiration.  *  Wbj.  the  deril  himsd*  mast  b« 
in  the  lassie  t '  Bat  he  jamped  down  from  his  hone  vdih 
a  qaick  movement,  not  angallantlj,  and  lifted  Nora  np  in 
his  big  arms  without  a  word,  seatmg  her  sideways,  before 
she  oould  remonstrate,  on  the  awkward  saddle.  '  Sit  you 
there,  Miss  Dupuy,'  he  said  kindlv.  *  Ye're  a  brave  lassie, 
if  ever  there  was  one.  I'll  hold  his  head,  and  run  along- 
side wi'  you.  We'll  be  ap  at  the  house  again  in  ten 
minutes.' 

*  They've  killed  my  father,*  Nora  said  simply,  beginning 
to  break  down  now  at  last,  after  her  unnatural  exaltation  of 
bravery  and  endurance,  and  bursting  into  a  sudden  flood 
of  tears.  '  He*s  lying  at  home  all  hacked  to  pieces  with 
their  dreadful  cutlasses ;  and  Mr.  Noel's  almost  dead  too  ; 
perhaps  he'll  be  quite  dead,  doctor,  before  we  can  get 
there.' 


CHAPTER  XIX 

Whbh  Nora  and  the  doctor  reached  the  door  of  Orange 
Grove,  they  found  Edward  Hawthorn  waiting  to  receive 
them,  and  the  servants  already  busy  trying  to  remove  as 
far  as  possible  the  signs  of  the  wreck  so  lately  effected  by 
the  wild  rioters.  Several  neighbouring  planters,  who  had 
come  down  from  the  hills  above,  stood  in  armed  groups 
around  the  gate;  and  a  few  mounted  black  constables, 
hastily  summoned  to  the  spot  by  the  fire,  were  helping  to 
extinguish  the  smouldering  ashes.  Only  Delgado's  dead 
body  lay  untouched  upon  the  sofa,  stiff  and  motionless, 
for  not  one  of  the  negroes  dare  venture  to  set  hands  upon 
it;  and,  in  the  room  within,  Marian  sat  still,  looking 
anxiously  at  Harry  Noel's  pallid  face  and  livid  eyelids, 
and  his  bloodstained  shirt,  that  yet  heaved  faintlv  and 
almost  imperceptibly  upon  his  broad  bosom  at  each  long 
slow-drawn  inspiration. 

*  He  isn't  dead  yet  ?  *  Nora  asked,  in  a  hushed  voice  of 
painful  inquiry ;  and  Marian  answered  under  her  breath, 
looking  up  at  the  bluff  doctor:  *No;  he's  living  stilL 
He's  breathing  quite  regularly,  though  very  feeblj.' 


119  ALL  f^nADE9 


fn 


long 

\q  of 
lath, 
itiU. 


As  for  Macfarkne,  be  went  to  work  at  once  with  the 
•ool  business-like  precision  and  rapiditv  of  his  practised 
profession,  opening  the  blood-stained  snirt  in  front,  and 
patting  his  hand  in  through  the  silk  vest  to  f( d  the  heart 
that  still  beat  faintly  and  evenly.  *  He's  lost  a  great  deal 
of  blood,  no  doubt,  Mrs.  Hawthorn,'  he  said  cheerily; 
*  but  he's  a  strong  mon,  an'  he'll  pull  through  yet,  ye 
needna  fash  yersel' — thanks  to  whoever  poot  this  bit 
handkerchief  around  his  arm  here.  It's  a  guid  enon!::h 
tourniquet  to  use  on  an  eemergency.  -Was  it  you,  M  ss 
Dupuy,  or  Mrs.  Hawthorn  ? ' 

A  round  spot  of  vivid  colour  flashed  <  a  moment  into 
Nora's  white  cheek  as  she  answered  quietly :  '  It  W)h  me. 
Dr.  Macfarlane ! '  and  then  died  out  again  as  fast  as  it  had 
come,  when  Macfeirlane's  eyes  were  once  more  removed 
from  her  burning  face. 

'  Ye're  a  brave  lassie,  an'  no  mistake,*  the  doctor  went 
on,  removing  the  tourniquet,  and  stanching  the  fresh  i!ow 
rapidly  with  a  proper  bandage,  produced  with  mechanical 
routine  from  his  coat  pocket.  *  Well,  well,  don't  be  aiiaid 
about  him  any  longer.  It's  a  big  cut.  an'  a  deep  cut,  an' 
it's  Just  gone  an*  severed  a  gnid  big  artery — an  ugly  busi- 
ness; butye've  takken  it  in  time;  an'  your  b.indage  has 
been  most  judeeciously  applied ;  so  ye  may  rest  assured 
that,  with  a  little  nursing,  the  young  mon  will  noon  be  all 
right  again,  an'  sound  as  ever.  A  cutlasH  is  a  nasty  weepon 
to  get  a  wound  from,  booanse  these  nigger  fellows  don't 
sharpen  them  up  to  a  clean  edge,  as  they  ought  to  do 
rightly,  but  just  hack  an'  mutilate  a  mon  in  the  most  out- 
rageous an'  unbusniess-like  manner,  instead  of  killing  him 
outright  like  guid  Christians,  with  a  neat,  sharp,  work- 
man-like inceesion.  But  we'll  pull  him  through — we'll 
pull  him  through  yet,  I  don't  doui)t  it.  An'  if  he  hves, 
he  may  have  the  pleasure  of  loiowing,  young  Icddy,  that 
it  was  the  tourniquet  ye  made  so  cleverly  that  just  saved 
him  at  the  right  moment.' 

As  Macfarlane  finished  dressing  and  tending  Harry's 
wound,  and  Harry's  eyes  began  to  open  again,  slowly  and 
glassily,  for  be  was  very  faint  with  loss  of  blood,  Nora, 
uow  that  the  exoitement  of  that  awful  evening  was  fairly 


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over,  Beemed  at  last  to  realise  within  herself  her  great  loss 
with  a  sndden  revulsion.  Turning  away  passionately  from 
Harry's  bedside,  she  rushed  into  tibe  next  room,  where  the 
women-servants  were  already  gathered  around  their  mas- 
ter's body,  keening  and  wailmg  as  is  their  wont,  with 
strange  hymns  and  incoherent  songs,  wherein  stray  scraps 
of  Hebrew  psalms  and  Christian  anthems  are  mingled 
incongruously  vdth  weird  surviving  reminiscences  of 
African  fetichism,  and  mystic  symbols  of  aboriginal  obeah. 
Fully  awake  now  to  the  blow  that  had  fallen  so  suddenly 
upon  her,  Nora  flung  herself  in  fierce  despair  by  her 
father's  side,  and  kissed  the  speechless  lips  two  or  three 
times  over  with  wild  remorse  in  her  fresh  agony  of  distress 
and  isolation.  '  Father,  father  1 '  she  (;rie(l  aloud,  in  the 
self-same  long-drawn  wail  as  the  negresses  around  her, 
•  they've  killed  you,  they've  killed  you  I  my  darling — my 
darhng  1 ' 

*  Dem  kill  you— dem  kill  you  !  *  echoed  Eose  and  Nita 
and  the  other  women  in  their  wailing  sing-song.  '  But  de 
Lard  ob  hebben  himself  avenge  you.  De  grabe  yawnin' 
wide  dis  ebenin'  for  Louis  Delgado.  De  Lard  smite  him — 
de  Lard  smite  him  f ' 

*  Get  away,  all  you  auld  crones  i '  the  doctor  said, 
coming  in.  npon  them  suddenly  with  his  hearty  Scotch 
voice,  that  seemed  to  break  f*i  too  harshly  on  the  weird 
solemnity  of  the  ghastly  scene.  '  Let  me  see  how  it  was 
they  killed  j\  or  master.  He's  dead,  you  say—  stone  dead, 
is  he  ?  Let  me  see — let  me  see,  then. — Here  you,  there — 
lift  up  his  head,  wOl  you,  lassie,  and  poot  it  down  decently 
on  the  pillow ! ' 

Nita  did  as  she  was  told,  mechanically,  with  a  reproach- 
ful glance  from  her  big  white-fringed  eyes  at  the  too 
matter-of-fact  and  common-sense  Scotchman,  and  then 
sat  down  again,  squatting  upon  the  floor,  moaning  and 
oroning  piteously  to  herself,  as  decorum  demanded  of  her 
under  such  circumstances. 

The  doctor  looked  closely  at  the  clotted  blood  that  hung 
in  ugly  tangles  on  the  ^oor  old  man's  grey  locks,  and 
whistled  a  httle  in  a  dubious  undertone  to  himself,  when 
he  saw  th«  great  gash  that  ran  right  across  Mr.  Dupuy'a 


nr  ALL  BHADBS 


27P 


left  shoulder.  •  An  awkward  cut,'  he  said  slowly — *  a  vera 
severe  an'  awkward  cut,  I  don't  deny  it.  But  I  don't  pre- 
cisely see,  mysel',  why  it  need  have  positively  killed  him. 
The  loss  of  blood  needn't  have  been  so  vera  excessive. 
He's  hacked  aboot  ten-ibly,  puir  auld  gentleman,  with 
their  ugly  cutlasses,  though  hardly  enough  to  have  done 
for  a  Dupuy,  in  my  opeenion.  They're  vera  tough  subjects 
indeed  to  lall,  all  the  Dupuys  are.' 

As  he  spoke,  he  leant  down  cautiously  over  the  body, 
and  listened  for  a  minute  or  two  attentively  with  his  ear 
at  the  heart  and  lips.  Then  he  held  his  finger  liglitly 
with  close  scrutiny  before  the  motionless  nostrils,  and 
shook  his  head  once  or  twice  in  a  very  solemn  and  omin- 
ous fashion.  *It'B  a  most  singular  fact,'  he  said,  with 
slow  deUberatfon,  looking  over  at  Edward,  *  and  one  full 
of  important  psychological  implications  that  the  members 
of  every  nationality  I  have  ever  had  to  deal  with  in  the 
whole  course  of  my  professional  experience — except  only 
the  Scottish  people — have  a  most  illogical  an'  rideeculous 
habit  of  jumping  at  conclusions  without  suiTeecient  data 
to  go  upon.  The  mon's  not  dead  at  all,  I  tell  you — de'il  a 
bit  of  it.    He's  breathing  still,  breathing  veesibly.' 

Nora  leapt  up  at  the  word  with  another  sudden  access 
of  wild  energy.  *  Breathing  I  *  she  cried — '  breathing, 
doctor  1  Then  he'll  Uve  still.  He'll  get  better  again,  wUl 
he,  my  darhng  ? ' 

*  Now  ye're  jumping  at  conclusions  a  second  time  most 
unwarrantably,'  Macfarlane  answered,  with  true  Scotch 
caution.  *  I  will  na  say  positively  he'll  get  better  again, 
for  that's  a  question  that  rests  entirely  in  the  hands  o'  the 
Almichty.  But  I  do  say  the  mon's  breathing  —not  a  doubt 
of  it.* 

The  discovery  inspired  them  all  at  once  witii  fresh  hope 
for  Mr.  Dupuy's  safety.  In  a  few  minutos  tliey  liad  taken 
ofif  his  outor  clothing  and  dressed  his  wounds ;  while  Nora  sat 
rocking  herself  to  and  fro  excitedly  in  the  American  chair, 
her  hands  folded  tight  with  interlacing  fingers  upon  her  lap, 
and  her  lips  trembling  with  convulsive  jerks,  as  she  moaned  in 
a  low  monotone  to  herself,  between  suspense  and  hope,  after 
»U  thA  •nocessiye  manifold  terrors  of  mat  endless  eyening. 


180 


IN  ALL  SHADBB 


By  and -by  the  doctor  tnrned  tj  her  kindly  and  gently. 

*  He  1)  do,'  be  said,  in  bis  most  fatherly  manner.  *  Go  tc 
bed,  lassie,  go  to  bed,  I  tell  ye.  Why,  ye're  bn-.ised  an' 
beaten  yersel'  too,  pretty  awkwardly  1  Ye'll  need  rest.  Go 
to  bed  ;  an'  he'll  be  better,  we'll  hope  an'  trust,  to-morrow 
morning.' 

'  I  won't  go  to  bed,'  Nora  said,  firmly,  'as  long  as  I 
don't  know  whether  he  will  live  or  not,  Dr.  Macfarlane.' 

*  Why,  my  lassie,  that'll  be  a  vera  long  watch  for  ye, 
then,  indeed,  I  promise  you,  for  he'll  no  be  well  again  for 
many  a  long  day  yet,  I'm  thinking.  But  he'll  do,  1  don't 
doubt,  with  the  Almichty's  blessing.  Go  to  bed,  now,  for 
there'll  be  plenty  to  guard  you.  Mr.  Hawthorn  an'  I  will 
stop  here  the  nicht ;  and  there's  neebors  enough  coming 
up  every  minute  to  hold  the  place  against  all  the  niggers 
in  the  whole  of  Treenidud.  The  country's  roused  now ; 
the  constabulary's  alive ;  an'  the  governor  11  be  sending 
up  the  meelitary  shortly  to  tak  care  of  us  while  you're 
sleeping.    Go  to  bed  at  once,  there's  a  guid  lassie.* 

5iarian  took  her  quietly  by  the  arm  and  led  her  away, 
once  more  half  fainting,  'You'll  stop  with  me,  dear?' 
Nora  whispered ;  and  Marian  answered  with  a  kiss  :  '  Yes, 
my  darling ;  I'll  stop  with  you  as  long  as  you  want  me.' 

'  Wait  a  minute,'  the  good  doctor  called  out  after  them. 

*  Ye'll  need  something  short  to  mak'  ye  sleep  after  all  this 
excitement,  I  tak  it,  leddies.  There's  nothing  in  the 
"vvorld  so  much  recommended  by  the  faculty  under  these 
conditions  as  a  guid  stiff  glass  of  auld  Hieland  whusky 
with  a  bit  lime-juice  an'  a  lump  o'  shoogar  in  it. — Ye'U 
have  some  whusky  in  the  house,  no  doubt,  won't  you. 
Uncle  Ezeekiel  ? ' 

In  a  minute  or  two,  Uncle  'Zekiel  had  brought  the 
whisky  and  the  glasses  and  the  fruit  for  the  bit  lime-juice, 
and  Macfarlane  had  duly  concocted  what  he  considered  as 
a  proper  dose  for  the  •  young  leddies  in  their  present  posee- 
tion.'  Edward  noticed,  too,  that  besides  the  whisky,  the 
juice,  and  the  sugar,  he  poured  furtively  into  each  glass  a 
few  drops  from  a  small  phial  that  he  took  out  unperceived 
by  all  the  others  from  his  waistcoat  pocket.  And  as  soon 
as  the  two  girls  had  gone  off  together,  the  doctor  whispered 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


181 


as 
> 


to  liim  oonfidentiallj,  with  all  the  air  of  a  most  profound 
coaspirator :  *  The  puir  creatures  wanted  a  little  seddative 
to  still  their  nerves,  I  conseeder,  after  all  this  unusual  an' 
ups«)tting  excitement,  so  I've  just  takken  the  leeherty  to 
give  them  each  a  guid  dose  of  morphia  in  their  drap  o' 
whusky,  that'll  mak'  them  both  sleep  as  sound  as  a  bairn 
till  tD-morrow  morning.' 

But  all  that  night,  the  negroes  watched  and  prayed 
loudly  in  their  own  huts  with  sti^iage  devotions,  and  the 
white  men  and  the  constables  watched — with  more  oaths 
than  prayers,  after  the  white  man's  fashion— armed  to  the 
teeth  around  the  open  gate  of  Mr.  Dupuy'a  front  garden. 


OHAPTEB  XLIL 

Nbzt  mcming,  Tom  Dupuy,  Esquire,  of  Pimento  VaUoy, 
Westmoreland,  Tr'nidad,  mounted  his  celebrated  chestnut 
pony  Sambo  Gal  at  his  own  door,  unchained  his  famous 
Cuban  bloodhound  Slot  A*om  his  big  kennel,  and  rode  up, 
with  cousinly  and  lover-Uke  anxiety,  to  Orange  Grove,  to 
inquire  after  Nora's  and  her  father's  safety.  Nora  was  up 
by  the  time  he  reached  the  house,  pale  and  tired,  and  with 
a  frightful  headache;  but  she  went  to  meet  him  at  the 
front  door,  and  dropped  him  a  very  low  old-fashioned 
obeisance. 

'  Good-morning,  Tom  Dupuy  I '  she  said,  coldly.  '  So 
you've  come  at  last  to  look  us  up,  have  you  ?  It's  very 
good  of  you,  I'm  sure,  very  good  of  you.  They  tell  me 
you  didn't  come  last  night,  when  half  the  gentlemen  from 
all  the  country  romid  rode  up  in  hot  haste  with  guns  and 
pistols  to  take  care  of  papa  and  me.  But  it's  very  good  of 
you,  to  be  sure,  now  the  danger's  well  over,  to  come  round 
in  such  a  friendly  fashion  and  drop  us  a  card  of  kind 
inquiries.' 

Even  Tom  Dupuy,  bom  boor  and  fool  as  he  was,  fluolied 
up  crimson  at  that  galling  taunt  from  a  woman's  lips, 
*X<ow  Uiat  the  danger's  well  ov«r.'    To  do  him  justice, 


set 


IN  ALL  SHADK8 


Tom  Dupay  was  indeed  no  coward;  that  was  the  one 
solitary  vice  of  which  no  fighting  D^puy  that  ever  lived 
coold  with  justice  be  aaspccted  for  a  moment.  He  would 
have  faced  and  fought*  a  thousand  black  rioters  single- 
handed,  like  a  thousand  devils,  himself,  in  defence  of  his 
beloved  vacuum  pans  and  dearly  cherished  saccharometers 
and  boiling-houses.  His  devotion  to  molasses  would  no 
doubt  have  been  proof  against  the  very  utmost  terrors 
of  death  itself.  But  the  truth  is  that  exact  devotion  in 
question  was  the  real  cause  of  his  apparent  remissness  oi 
the  previous  evening.  All  night  long,  Tom  Dupuy  had 
been  busy  rousing  and  arming  his  innnediate  house- servants, 
despatching  messengeis  lo  Port-of- Spain  for  the  aid  of  the 
constabulary,  and  preparing  to  defend  the  cut  canes  with 
the  very  last  drop  of  his  blood  and  the  very  last  breath  in 
his  Btohd  body.  At  the  first  sight  of  the  conflagration  at 
Orange  Grove,  he  guessed  at  once  that  *  the  niggers  had 
risen ; '  and  he  proceeded  without  a  moment's  delay  to 
fortify  roughly  Pimento  Valley  against  the  chance  of  a 
similar  attack.  Now  that  he  came  to  look  back  calmly 
upon  his  heroic  exertions,  however,  it  did  begin  to  strike 
him  somewhat  forcibly  that  he  bad  perhaps  shown  himself 
slightly  wanting  in  the  affection  of  a  cousin  and  the  ardour 
of  a  lover.  He  bit  his  lip  awkwardly  for  a  second,  with  a. 
sheepish  look  ;  then  he  glanced  up  suddenly  and  said  with 
clumsy  self- vindication  :  '  It  isn't  always  those  that  deserve 
the  best  of  you  that  get  the  best  praise  or  thanks,  in  this 
world  of  ours,  I  fancy,  Nora  I ' 

'  I  fail  to  understand  you,'  Nora  answered  with  quiet 
dignity. 

•Why,  just  you  look  hijre,  Nora;  it's  somehow  like 
this,  I  tell  you  plainly.  Here  was  I 'last  night  down  at 
Pimento.  I  saw  by  the  blaze  that  these  nigger  fellows 
must  have  broken  loose,  and  must  be  burning  down  the 
Orange  Grove  cane-houses ;  so  there  I  stopped  all  night 
long,  working  away  as  hard  as  I  could  work — no  nigger 
could  have  worked  harder  —trying  to  protect  your  father's 
canes  and  the  vacuum  pans  from  these  murdering,  howl- 
ing rebels.  And  now,  when  I  some  round  here  this  morn- 
ing to  tell  you,  after  having  made  Boid  the  whole  year*! 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


98S 


crop  at  old  ^imento,  one  of  your  fine  English  floats  is  all 
the  thanks  I  get  from  you,  miss,  for  my  night's  labour.' 

Nora  'aughed — laughed  in  spite  of  hersolf — laughed 
aloud  a  aimple,  merry,  girhsh  laugh  of  pure  amusement — 
it  was  so  comical.  There  they  had  all  stood  last  night  in 
imminent  danger  of  their  hves,  and  of  what  is  dearer  than 
life  itself,  surrounded  by  a  &antio,  yelling  mob  of  half- 
demented,  rum-maddened  negroes — her  father  left  for 
dead  upon  the  piazza  steps,  Harry  Noel  hacked  to  pieces  with 
cutlasses  before  her  very  eyes,  herself  trampled  under  foot 
in  her  swoon  upon  the  drawing-room  floor  by  those  naked 
soles  of  negro  rioters — and  now  this  morning,  Cousin  Tom 
comes  up  quietly  when  &U  was  over  to  tell  her  at  his  ease 
how  he  had  taken  the  most  approved  precautions  for  the 
protection  of  his  beloved  vacuum  pans.  Every  time  she 
thought  of  it,  Nora  laughed  again,  with  a  fresh  little  oat- 
burst  of  merry  laughter,  more  and  more  vehemently,  just 
as  though  her  father  were  not  at  that  very  moment  lying 
within  between  life  and  death,  as  still  and  motionless  as  a 
corpse,  in  his  own  bedroom. 

There  is  nothing  more  fatal  to  the  possible  prospects  of 
a  suitor,  however  hopeless,  than  to  be  openly  laugh^^d  at 
by  the  lady  of  his  choice  at  a  critical  moment — nothing 
more  galling  to  a  man  under  any  circumstances  than 
patent  ridicule  from  beautiful  woman.  Tom  Dupuy  grew 
redder  and  redder  every  minute,  and  stammered  and 
stuttered  in  helpless  spoechlessness ;  and  still  Nora  looked 
at  him  and  laughed, '  for  eHi  the  world,'  he  thought  to  him- 
self, '  as  if  I  were  just  nobody  else  but  the  clown  at  (he 
theatre.' 

But  that  was  not  indeed  the  stage  on  which  Tom  Dupuy 
really  performed  the  part  of  clown  with  sucii  distingmshed 
success  in  his  unconscious  personation. 

*  How's  your  father  this  morning  ? '  be  asked  at  last 
gruffly,  with  an  uneasy  shuffle.  '  I  hear  the  niggers  cut 
him  about  awfully  last  night,  and  next  door  to  lolled  him 
with  their  beastlv  cutlasses.' 

Nora  drew  herself  up  and  checked  her  untimely 
laughter  with  a  sudden  sense  of  the  demands  of  the  situa- 
tion, as  she  answered  onou  more  in  htr  coldest  tone :  '  My 


S64 


ZN  ALL  BHALEa 


taXhet  is  getting  on  as  well  as  we  can  expect,  thank  yon, 
Mr.  Tom  Dapuy.  We  are  much  obliged  to  you  for  your 
kind  inquiries.  Ho  slept  the  night  pretty  well,  all  things 
considered,  and  is  partially  conscious  again  this  morning. 
He  was  very  nearly  killed  last  night,  as  you  say  ;  and  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  Mr.  Noel  and  Mr.  Hawthorn,  who  kindly 
came  up  at  once  and  tried  to  protect  us,  he  would  have 
been  killed  outright,  and  I  with  him.  But  Mr.  Noel  and 
Mr.  Hawthorn  had  happily  no  vacuum  pans  and  no  trash- 
houses  to  engage  their  first  and  chief  attention.' 

Tom  Dupuy  sneered  visibly.  *  Hm  t  *  he  said.  '  Two 
coloured  fellows!  Upon  my  conscience!  the  Dupuys  of 
Trinidad  must  bo  coming  down  in  the  world,  it  seems, 
when  they  have  to  rely  for  help  in  a  nigger  rising  upon 
two  coloured  fellows.' 

*  If  they'd  had  to  rely  ui^on  white  men  like  yon,'  Nora 
answered  angrily,  flushing  crimson  as  she  spcke,  '  they'd 
have  been  burnt  last  night  upon  the  ashes  of  the  cane- 
house,  and  not  a  soul  would  have  stirred  a  hand  or  foot  to 
save  them  or  protect  them.' 

Tom  laughed  to  himself  a  sharp,  short,  malicious 
laugh.  *  Ha,  ha  1 '  he  said, '  my  fine  English-bred  lady, 
BO  that's  the  \vay  the  wind  blows,  is  it?  I  may  be  a 
fool,  and  I  know  you  think  me  one ' — Nora  bowed  im- 
mediately a  sarcastic  acquiescence — *  but  I'm  not  such  a 
fool  as  not  to  see  through  a  woman's  face  into  a  woman's 
mind  hke  an  open  window.  I  heard  that  that  woolly- 
headed  Hawthorn  man  had  been  over  here  and  made  a 
most  cowardly  time-serving  speech  to  the  confounded 
niggers,  giving  way  to  all  their  preposterous  demands  in 
the  most  outrageous  and  ridiculous  fashion ;  but  I  didn't 
hear  that  the  other  coloured  fellow — your  fine-spoken 
EngUsh  friend  Noel ' — he  hissed  the  words  out  with  all  the 
concentrated  strength  of  bis  impotent  hatred — *  had  been 
up  here  too,  to  put  his  own  finger  into  the  pie  when 
the  crust  was  burning.  Just  like  hid  impudence  I  the 
conceited  coxcomb  I ' 

*  Mr.  Noel  is  lying  inside,  in  our  own  house  here,  this 
very  moment,  dangerously  wounded,'  Nora  cried,  her  face 
now  like  a  crimson  puouy ;  '  and  ho  was  out  down  by 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


Begroes  last  night,  standing  up  bravely,  alone  and  single- 
handed,  with  no  weapon  but  a  little  riding-whip,  facing 
those  mad  rebels  like  an  angry  tiger,  and  trying  to  protect 
me  from  their  insults  and  their  cutlasses  ;  while  yon,  sir, 
were  stopping  snugly  away  down  at  Pimento  Valley,  look- 
ing carefully  after  your  canes  and  your  vacuum  pans.  Tom 
Dupuy,  if  you  dare  to  say  another  word,  now  or  ever,  in 
my  hearing  against  the  man  who  tried  to  save  my  Ufe  from 
those  wild  wretches  at  the  risk  of  his  own,  as  sure  as  I'm 
standing  here,  sir,  I  give  you  fair  notice  I'll  come  up  and 
slap  your  face  for  you  myself,  as  soon  as  I'll  look  at  you, 
you  cowardly  back-biter  I — And  now,  Mr.  Dupuy,  good- 
morning,  good-morning.' 

Tom  saw  the  game  was  fairly  np  and  his  hand  out- 
witted.   It  was  no  use  arguing  with  her  any  longer. 

*  When  she's  in  this  humour,'  he  said  to  himself  plulo- 
scphically,  'yon  might  as  well  try  to  reason  with  a 
wounded  lioness.'  So  he  whistled  carelessly  for  Slot 
to  follow,  lifted  his  hat  as  pohtely  as  he  was  able — he 
didn't  pretend  to  all  these  fine  new-fangled  tov/n-bred  ways 
of  Harry  Noel's — jumped  with  awkward  agiUty  upon  his 
chestnrt  pony,  turned  his  horse's  head  in  the  direction  of 
Pimento  Valley,  and  delivered  a  parting  Parthian  shot 
from  a  safe  distance,  just  as  he  got  beyond  the  garden 
gateway.  Good-bye,  Miss  Nora,'  he  said  then  savagely 
raising  his  hat  a  second  time  with  sarcastic  courtesy: 

*  good-bye  for  ever.  This  is  our  last  meeting.  And  re- 
member that  I  always  said  you'd  finish  in  the  end,  for 
all  your  fine  English  education,  by  marrying  a  damned 
woolly-headed  brown  man  1 ' 


CHAPTER  XLin. 

All  day  long,  Mr.  Dupuy  lay  speechless  and  almost 
motionless  on  his  bed,  faint  with  loss  of  blood,  and  hover- 
ing between  Ufe  and  death,  but  gradually  mending  by 
imperceptible  degrees,  as  Marian  fancied.  The  brain  had 
been  terribly  shaken,  and  there  were  some  symptoms  of 

19 


i 


-^ 


I 


nx  ALL  8EADBB 


Btimning  and  concussion ;  but  the  main  trouble  was  merely 
the  excessive  drain  on  the  vascular  system  from  the  long- 
continued  and  unchecked  bleeiling.  About  mid-day,  he 
became  hot  and  feverish,  with  a  full  pulse,  beating  un- 
steadily. Macfarlane,  who  had  remained  in  the  house  all 
night,  ordered  him  at  once  a  rough  mixture  of  sal- volatile, 
bismuth,  and  whisky.  •  An'  whatever  ye  do,'  he  said 
emphatically,  '  don't  forget  the  whusky — a  guid  wine- 
glassful  in  half  a  pint  o'  cold  matter.' 

Mr.  Dupuy  was  raised  in  the  bed  to  drink  the  mixture, 
which  he  swallowed  mechanically  in  a  half-unconscious 
fashion ;  and  then  a  bandage  of  pounded  ice  was  applied 
to  his  forehead,  and  leeches  were  hastily  sent  for  to  Port- 
of- Spain  to  reduce  the  inflammation.  Long  before  the 
leeches  had  time  to  arrive,  however,  Nora,  who  was  watch- 
ing by  his  bedside,  observed  that  his  eyes  began  to  open 
more  frequently  than  before,  and  that  gleams  of  reason 
seemed  to  come  over  them  every  now  and  again  for  brief 
intervals.  '  Give  him  some  more  whusky,'  Macfarlane 
said  in  his  decided  tone  ;  '  there's  nothhig  like  it,  nothing 
like  it — ^in  these  cases — especially  for  a  mon  of  Dupuy's 
idioseencrasy.' 

At  that  moment  Mr.  Dupuy's  lips  moved  feebly,  and  he 
tried  to  turn  with  an  effort  on  the  pillow. 

•  Hush,  hush  I '  Nora  cried ;  •  he  wants  to  speak.  He 
has  something  to  tell  us.  What  is  it  he's  saying  ?  Listen, 
listen  I ' 

Mr.  Dupuy's  lips  moved  again,  and  a  faint  voice  pro- 
ceeded slowly  from  the  depths  of  his  bosom :  '  Not 
fit  to  hold  a  candle  to  old  Trinidad  rum,  I  tell  you, 
doctor.' 

Macfarlane  rubbed  his  hand  against  his  thigh  with 
evident  pleasure  and  satisfaction.  *  He's  wrong  there,'  he 
murmured,  •  undoubtedly  wrong,  as  every  judeecious  person 
could  easily  tell  him ;  but  no  matter.  He'll  do  now,  when 
once  he's  got  life  enough  left  in  him  to  contradict  one. 
It  always  does  a  Dupuy  guid  to  contradict  other  people. 
Let  it  be  rum,  then — a  guid  wine-glassful  of  Mr.  Tom's 
btit  stilling.' 

Almost  as  soon  as  ths  rum  was  swallowad,  Mr.  Dupuj 


Ur  ALL  ''BADSe 


you, 


Beexned  to  mend  rapidly  for  the  passing  moment.  He 
looked  cp  and  saw  Nora.  '  That's  well,  then,'  he  said  with 
a  sigh,  recollecting  suddenly  tlie  last  night's  adventures. 
*  Bo  they  didn't  kill  you,  after  all,  Nora  ? ' 

Nora  stooped  down  with  unwonted  tenderness  and 
kissed  him  fervently.  '  No,  papa,'  she  said ;  '  they  didn't ; 
nor  you  either.' 

Mr.  Dupuy  paused  for  a  moment ;  then  he  looked  up  a 
second  time,  and  asked,  with  extraordinary  vehemence  for 
an  invalided  man :  •  Is  this  riot  put  down  ?  Have  they 
driven  off  the  niggers  ?  Have  they  taken  the  ringleaders  ? 
Have  they  hanged  Delgado  ?  ' 

*  Hush,  hush  I  •  Nora  cried,  a  little  appalled  in  her 
cooler  mood,  after  all  that  had  happened,  at  this  first 
savage  outcry  for  vengeance.  '  You  mustn't  talk,  papa ; 
you  mustn't  excite  yourself.  Yes,  yes  ;  the  riot  is  put  down, 
and  Delgado — Delgado  is  dead.  He  has  met  with  his  due 
punishment.' 

*  That's  well  I '  Mr.  Dupuy  exclaimed,  with  much  gusto, 
in  spite  of  his  weakness,  rubbing  his  hands  feebly  under* 
neath  the  bed-clothes.  '  Serves  the  villain  right.  I'm  glad 
they've  hanged  him.  Nothing  on  earth  comes  up  to 
martial  law  in  these  emergencies ;  and  hang  'em  on  the 
spot,  say  I,  as  fast  as  you  catch  'em,  red-handed  1  Flog 
'em  first,  and  hang  'em  afterwards  I ' 

Marian  looked  down  at  him  speechless,  with  a  shudder 
of  horror ;  but  Nora  put  her  face  between  her  hands,  over- 
whelmed with  awe,  now  her  own  passion  had  burnt  itself 
out,  at  that  terrible  outburst  of  the  old  bad  barbaric  spirit 
of  retaliation.  ♦  Don't  let  him  talk  so,  dear,'  she  cried  to 
Marian.  •  Oh,  Marian,  Marian,  I'm  so  ashamed  of  myself, 
I'm  so  ashamed  of  us  all — us  Dupuys,  I  mean ;  I  wish  we 
were  all  more  like  you  and  Mr.  Hawthorn.' 

*  You  must  na  speak,  Mr.  Dupuy,'  Macfarlane  said, 
interposing  gently,  with  his  rough-and-ready  Scotch  tender- 
ness. '  Ye're  not  strong  enough  for  conversation  yet,  I'm 
thinking.  Ye  must  just  tak'  a  wee  bit  sleep  till  the  fever's 
better.  Ye've  liad  a  narrow  escape  of  your  life,  my  guid 
Fir  ;  an'  ye  must  na  excite  yoursei'  the  minute  ye're  getting 
a  triiie  better.' 


nf  ALL  SHADBS 


The  old  man  lay  silent  for  a  few  mmntes  longer ;  ihen 
he  tamed  again  to  Nora,  and  without  noticing  Marian's 
presence,  said  more  veliomently  and  more  viciously  than 
ever :  *  I  know  who  set  them  on  to  this,  Nora.  It  wasn't 
their  own  doing ;  it  was  coloured  instigation.  They  were 
put  up  to  it — I  know  they  were  put  up  to  it — by  that 
scoundrel  Hawthorn— a  seditious,  rascally,  malevolsnt 
lawyer,  if  ever  there  was  one.  I  hope  they'll  hang  him 
too — he  deserves  it  soundly — fiog  him  and  hang  him  as 
soon  as  they  catch  him  t ' 

'  Oh,  papa,  papa  I '  Nora  cried,  growing  hotter  and 
redder  in  the  face  than  ever,  and  clutching  Marian's  hand 
tightly  in  an  agony  of  distress  and  shamefacedness,  *  you 
don't  know  what  you're  saying!  You  don't  know  what 
yon  owe  to  him  1  It  was  Mr.  Hawthorn  who  finally 
pacified  and  dispersed  the  negroes ;  and  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  bis  coolness  and  his  bravery,  we  wouldn't  one  of  us 
have  been  aUve  to  say  so  this  very  minute  ! ' 

Mr.  Dupuy  coughed  uneasily,  and  muttered  to  himself 
once  more  in  a  vindictive  undertone :  '  Hang  him  when  they 
catch  him  1 — hang  him  when  they  cakch  him  1  I'll  speak 
to  the  governor  about  it  myself,  and  prove  to  him  con- 
clusively that  if  it  hadn't  been  for  this  fellow  Hawthorn, 
the  niggers  'd  never  have  dreamed  of  kicking  up  such  an 
infernal  hullabaloo  and  bobbery  1 ' 

*  But,  papa,'  Nora  began  again,  her  eyes  full  of  tears, 
*  you  don't  understand  You're  all  wrong  about  it.  If  it 
hadn't  been  for  that  dear,  good,  brave  Mr.  Hawthorn * 

Marian  touched  her  lightly  on  the  shoulder.  '  Never 
mind  about  it,  Nora,  darling,'  she  whispered  consolingly, 
with  a  womanly  caress  to  the  poor  shrinking  girl  at  her 
elbow ;  *  don't  trouble  him  with  the  story  now.  By-and- 
by,  when  he's  better,  he'll  come  to  hear  the  facts ;  and  then 
he'll  know  what  Edward's  part  was  in  the  whole  matter. 
Don't  distress  yourself  about  it,  darling,  now,  after  all  that 
has  happened.  I  know  your  father's  feelings  too  well  to 
take  amiss  anything  he  may  happen  to  say  in  the  heat  of 
the  moment. 

'  If  you  speak  anothar  word  before  six  o'clock  to-night, 
Dnpqy,'  Maofitflane  put  in  with  stern  determination, '  I'll 


m  ALL  SHADES 


us 


jht, 

ru 


just  elear  every  soul  iliat  know":  ye  ooto'  the  room  at  once, 
ail*  leave  ye  alone  to  Uie  tender  mercrja  of  old  Aunt 
Clemmy.  Turn  over  on  your  side,  men,  when  your  doctor 
te^ls  ye  to,  an'  try  to  got  a  little  bit  o'  refreshing  sleep 
before  the  evening;.' 

Mr.  Dupuy  obeyed  in  a  feeble  fashion;  but  he  still 
muttered  doggedly  to  himself  as  he  turned  over :  *  Catch 
him  and  hang  him  I     Prove  it  to  the  governor ! ' 

As  he  spoke,  Edward  beckoned  Marian  out  into  the 
drawing-room  through  the  open  door,  to  show  her  a  note 
which  had  just  been  brought  to  him  by  a  mounted  orderly. 
It  was  a  few  hasty  lines,  written  in  pencil  that  very 
morning  b^  the  governor  himself,  thanking  Mr.  Hawthorn 
in  his  official  capacity  for  his  brave  and  conciliatory  conduct 
on  the  preceding  evening,  whereby  a  formidable  and  organ- 
ised insurrection  had  been  nipped  in  the  bud,  and  a  door 
left  open  for  future  inquiry,  and  redress  of  any  possible 
just  grievances  on  the  part  of  the  rioters  and  discontented 
negroes.  *  It  is  to  your  firmness  and  address  alone,'  the 
governor  wrote, '  that  the  white  population  of  the  island  of 
Trinidad  owes  to-day  its  present  security  from  fire  and 
bloodshed.' 

Meanwhile,  preparations  had  been  made  for  preventing 
any  possible  fresh  outbreak  of  the  riot  that  evening ;  and 
soldiers  and  policemen  were  arriving  every  moment  at  the 
smouldering  site  of  the  recent  fire,  and  forming  a  regular 
plan  of  defence  against  the  remote  chance  of  a  second 
rising.  Not  that  any  such  precautions  were  really  neces- 
sary ;  for  the  negroes,  deprived  of  their  head  in  Delgado, 
were  left  utterly  without  cohesion  or  organisation;  and 
Edward's  promise  to  go  to  England  and  see  that  their 
grievances  were  properly  ventilated  had  had  far  more  effect 
upon  their  trustful  and  excitable  naturcB  than  the  display 
often  regiments  of  soldiers  in  marching  order  could  possibly 
have  produced.  The  natural  laziness  of  the  negro  mind, 
oombming  with  their  confidence  in  the  young  judge,  and 
their  fervent  faith  in  the  justice  of  Providence  under  the 
most  apparently  incongruous  circumstances,  had  made 
^em  all  settle  down  at  once  into  their  usual  hstless 
(OMMV'/atrd  condition,  as  soon  as  the  spur  of  Delgado's 


m  ALL  SHADFJS 


fiery  energy  and  exportation  had  ceased  to  stimnlate  them. 
*It  all  right,'  they  chattered  passively  nrao!\ij  themselves. 
*  Mistah  Hawtorn  gwine  to  'peak  to  Missis  Queen  fur  de 
poor  naygur  ;  and  de  Lard  in  hebben  gwine  to  watch  ober 
nim,  an'  see  him  cloan't  suffer  no  more  wrong  at  de  heavy 
hand  ub  de  proud  buckra.' 

"When  the  time  arrived  to  make  preparations  for  the 
night's  watching  and  nursing,  Nora  came  to  Marian  once 
more  with  her  spirit  vexed  by  a  sort  trouble.  *  My  dear,' 
she  said,  '  this  is  a  dreadful  thing  about  poor  Mr.  Noel 
having  to  go  on  stopping  here.  It's  very  unfortunate  he 
couldn't  have  been  nursed  through  hisill'iessat  vour  house 
or  at  Captain  Gastello's.  He'll  be  down  in  bed  for  at  least 
a  week  or  two,  in  all  probability  ;  and  it  won't  bo  possible 
to  move  him  out  of  this  until  he's  better.' 

*  Well,  darling  ? '  Marian  answered,  with  an  inquiring 
smile. 

*  Well,  you  see,  Marian,  it  wouldn't  be  so  awkward,  of 
course,  if  poor  papa  wasn't  ill  too,  because  then,  if  I  liked, 
I  could  go  over  and  stop  with  you  at  Mulberry  until  Mr. 
Noel  was  quite  recovered.  But  as  I  shall  have  to  stav 
here,  naturally,  to  nurse  papa,  why ' 

•  Why,  what  then,  Nora  ?  * 

Nora  hesitated.  •  Why,  you  see,  darling,*  she  went  on 
timidly  at  last, '  people  will  say  that  as  I've  helped  to  nurse 
Mr.  Noel  through  a  serious  ilhaess ' 

•  Yes,  dear  ?  ' 

'  Oh,  Marian,  don't  be  so  stupid  I  Of  course,  in  that 
case,  everybody'll  expect  me — to — to — accept  hirrj.' 

Ilarian  looked  dorvn  deep  into  her  simple  little  girlish 
eyes  with  a  curious  smile  of  arch  womanliness.  *  And 
why  not,  Nora  ? '  she  asked  at  last  with  perfect  simplicity. 

Nora  blushed.  'Marian — Marian— dear  Marian,'  she 
said  at  length,  after  a  long  pause,  '  you  are  so  good — you 
are  so  kind — you  are  so  helpful  to  me.  I  wish  I  could  say 
to  you  all  I  feel,  but  I  can't ;  and  even  if  I  did,  you  couldn't 
understand  it — you  couldn't  fathom  it.  You  don't  know 
what  it  is,  Marian,  to  be  born  a  West  Indian  with  such  a 
terrible  load  of  surviving  prejudices.  Oh,  darling,  darling, 
we  are  all  Bo  full  of  wicked,  dreadful,  ui^ust  feelings ;  I 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


»1 


wish  I  oonld  be  lilo  you,  flenr,  I  wish  to  heaven  I  could; 
but  I  can't,  I  can't,  I  can't,  somehow  ! ' 

Marian  stroked  her  white  little  hand  with  sisterly  ten- 
derness in  perfect  silence  for  a  few  minutes ;  then  she  said, 
rather  reproachfully :  *  So  you  wish  Mr.  Noel  wasn't  going 
to  be  nursed  under  your  father's  roof,  at  all,  Nora  I  That's 
a  very  poor  return,  isn't  it,  my  darling,  for  all  his  bravery 
and  heroism  and  devotion  ? ' 

Nora  drew  back  like  one  stung  suddenly  by  a  venomous 
creature,  and  putting  her  hand  in  haste  on  her  breast,  as  if 
it  pained  her  terribly,  answered,  with  a  deep-drawn  sigh  : 
'  It  isn't  that,  Maria  isn't  that,  darling.  You  know 
what  it  is,  dear,  as  well  as  I  do.  Don't  say  it's  that,  my 
sweet;  oh,  don't  say  it's  that,  or  you'll  kill  me,  you'U  kill 
me,  with  remorse  and  anger  I  You'll  make  me  hate 
myself,  if  you  say  I'm  ungrateful.  But  I'm  not  ungrateful, 
Marian — I'm  not  ungrateful.  I  adroire  him,  and — and 
love  him;  yes,  I  love  him,  for  the  way  he  acted  here  last 
evening.'  And  as  she  spoke,  she  buried  her  head  fervidly, 
with  shame  and  fear,  in  Marian's  bosom. 

Marian  smoothed  her  hair  tenderly  for  a  few  minutes 
longer,  this  time  again  in  profound  silence,  and  th'n  she 
spoke  once  more  very  softly,  almost  at  Nora's  ear,  in  a  low 
whisper.  *  I  went  this  morning  into  Mr.  Noel's  room,'  she 
eaid,  •  darling,  just  when  he  was  first  beginning  to  recover 
consciousne.<)s  ;  and  as  he  saw  me,  he  turned  his  eyes  up  to 
me  with  a  beseeching  look,  and  bis  lips  seemed  to  be 
moving,  as  if  he  wanted  ever  so  much  to  say  something. 
So  I  stooped  down  and  hstened  to  catch  the  words  he  v:i-^ 
trying  to  frame  in  his  feverish  fashion.  He  said  at  first 
Just  two  words—**  Miss  Dupuy ; "  and  then  he  spoke  again, 
and  saic'  jne  only — •*  Nora."  I  smiled,  and  nodded  at  him 
to  tell  him  it  was  all  well ;  and  he  spoke  f gain,  quite 
audibly:  •*  Have  they  hurt  her?  Have  they  hurt  her  ?  " 
I  said :  "  No ;  she's  as  well  as  I  am  t  "  and  his  eyes  seemed 
to  grow  larger  as  I  said  it,  and  filled  with  tears ;  and  I 
knew  what  he  ma^nt  by  ihcni, 
meant  by  them.  A  little  hiier, 
and  he  ?aid :   *•  Mrs.  Ilawtliorn, 


Nora — I  knew  what  he 
he  spoke  to   me   again, 
I  may  be  dying ;  and  if 
I  die,  tell  her — tell  Nora— that — that — last  night,  when 

vt 


:( 


1  ■ 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


she  stood  beside  me  there  so  bravely,  I  loyed  her,  I 
loved  ber,  I  loved  ber  better  even  than  I  had  ever  loved 
her  I  "  He  won't  die,  Nora ;  but  still  I'll  break  his  con- 
fidence, darUng,  and  tell  it  you  this  evening — Oh,  Nora, 
Nora  I  you  say  you  wish  to  heaven  you  hadn't  got  all 
these  dreadful  wicked  West  Indian  feelings.  You're  brave 
enough — I  know  that — no  woman  braver.  Why  don't 
you  Lave  the  courage  to  break  through  them,  then,  and 
come  away  with  Edward  and  me  to  England,  and  accept 
poor  Mr.  Noel,  who  would  gladly  give  his  very  life  a  thou« 
sand  times  over  for  you,  darling  ? ' 

Nora  burst  into  tears  once  more,  and  nestled,  sobbing, 
closer  and  closer  upon  Marian's  shoulder.  '  My  darling, 
my  darling,  she  cried,  I'm  too,  too  wicked  I  I  only  wish  I 
could  feel  as  you  do  1 ' 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

The  days  went  slowly,  slowly  on,  and  Mr.  Dupny  and 
Harry  Noel  both  continued  to  recover  steadily  from  their 
severe  injuries.  Marian  came  over  every  day  to  help  with 
the  nursing,  and  took  charge  for  the  most  part,  with  Aunt 
Glemmy's  aid,  of  the  young  Englishman ;  while  Nora's 
time  was  obiefily  taken  np  in  attending  to  her  father's 
manifold  necessities.  Still  at  odd  moments  she  did  venture 
to  help  a  little  in  taking  care  of  poor  Harry,  whose  grati- 
tude for  all  her  small  attentions  was  absolutely  unbounded, 
and  very  tonohing.  True,  she  came  comparatively  seldom 
into  the  sickroom  (for  such  in  fact  it  was,  the  crushing 
blow  on  Harry's  head  having  been  followed  by  violent 
symptoms  of  internal  injury  to  the  brain,  which  made  iiis 
case  far  more  serious  in  the  end  than  Mr.  Dupn^r's) ;  but 
whenever  he  awoke  up  after  a  short  doze,  in  his  intervals 
of  ps.in,  he  always  found  a  fresh  passion-flower,  or  a  sweet 
white  rosebud,  or  a  graceful  spray  of  clambering  Martinique 
clematis,  carefully  placed  in  a  tiny  vase  with  pure  water  on 
the  little  table  by  the  bedside ;  and  he  knew  well  whose 
dainty  fingers  had  picked  the  petty  blossoms  and  arranged 
them  so  deftly,  with  their  dehoate  background  of  Uoe-uk^ 


Iff  AZIm  8KADS8 


ig 


}lent 
his 
but 
mis 
^eet 

liqua 

Iron 
lose 

iged 


wfld  West  Indian  maidenhair,  in  the  tiny  botiqnets.  More 
than  once,  too,  when  Aunt  Glemmy  wasn't  loolang,  he  took 
the  white  rosebuds  out  of  the  water  for  a  single  moment 
and  gazed  at  them  tenderly  with  a  wisiiful  eye ;  and  when, 
one  afternoon,  Marian  surprised  him  in  the  very  act,  as  she 
came  in  with  his  regulation  cup  of  chicken  broth  at  the  half- 
hour,  she  saw  that  the  colour  rushed  suddenly  even  into  his 
brown  and  bloodless  cheek,  and  his  eyes  fell  like  a  boy's  as 
he  replaced  the  buds  with  a  guilty  look  in  the  vase  beside 
him.  But  she  said  nothing  about  the  matter  at  the  time, 
only  reserving  it  for  Nora's  private  delectation  in  the  little 
bondoir  half  an  hour  later. 

As  Mr.  Dupuy  got  better,  one  firm  resolve  seemed  to 
have  imprinted  itself  indeUbly  upon  his  unbending  nature— 
the  resolve  to  quit  Trinidad  for  ever  at  the  very  earliest 
moment  when  convalescence  and  Macfarlane  would  com- 
bine to  allow  him.  He  would  even  sell  Orange  Grove  itself, 
he  said,  and  go  over  and  live  permanently  for  the  rest  of 
his  days  in  England.  '  That  is  to  sa^ ,  in  England  for  the 
summer,'  he  observed  casually  to  Nora ;  *  for  I  don't  sup- 
pose any  human  being  in  his  nght  senses  would  ever  dream 
of  stopping  in  such  a  beastly  climate  through  a  whole 
dreary  English  winter.  In  October,  I  shall  always  go  to 
Nice,  or  Pan,  or  Mentone,  or  some  other  of  these  new> 
fashioned  continental  wintering-places  that  people  go  to 
nowadays  in  Europe ;  some  chance,  I  suppose,  of  seeing 
the  sun  once  and  again  there,  at  any  rate.  But  one  thing 
I've  quite  decided  upon :  I  won't  hve  any  longer  in  Trinidad. 
I'm  not  afraid ;  but  I  object  on  principlo  to  vivisection, 
especially  conducted  with  a  blunt  instrument.  At  my  time 
of  hfe,  a  man  naturally  dislikes  being  cut  up  alive  by  those 
horrible  cutlasses.  You  and  your  cousin  Tom  may  stop 
here  by  yourselves  and  manage  Pimento  Valley,  if  you 
choose ;  but  I  decline  any  longer  to  be  used  as  the  corpus 
vile  for  a  nigger  experimentalist  to  exercise  his  skill  upon. 
It  doesn't  suit  my  taste,  and  I  refuse  to  submit  to  it.  The 
foot  is,  Nora,  my  dear,  the  island  isn't  any  longer  a  fit  place 
for  a  gentleman  to  live  in.  It  was  all  very  well  in  the  old 
dayd,  before  we  got  a  pack  of  Exeter  Hall  demagognei  sent 
9nt  hor«  by  the  government  of  the  day,  on  pnrpoee  te  exoite 


TV  ALL  f^7TAT)W9 


»ur  0"wn  servants  to  rebellion  and  inHurreption  ng^ninft  ni. 
Nobody  ever  heaid  of  the  niggers  rising  or  hackiug  one  to 
pieces  bodily  in  those  days.  But  ever  since  this  man 
Hawthorn,  whose  vafe  you're  so  thick  with—a  thing  that 
no  lady  would  have  dreamt  of  countenancing  in  the  daya 
before  these  new-fangled  doctrines  came  into  fashion — 
ever  since  this  man  HiiAvthorn  was  sent  out  here,  preaching 
his  revolutionary  cut-throat  principles  broadcast,  the  island 
hasn't  been  a  fit  place  at  all  for  a  gentleman  to  live  in ; 
and  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  leave  it  at  once  and  go  over 
to  England.' 

Meanwhile,  events  had  arisen  which  rendered  it  certain 
that  the  revolutionary  demagogue  himself,  who  had  saved 
Mr.  Dupuy's  life  and  all  the  otber  white  lives  in  the  entire 
island,  would  also  have  to  go  to  England  at  a  short  notice. 
Edward  had  intended,  indeed,  in  pursuance  of  his  hasty 
promise  to  the  excited  negroes,  to  resign  his  judgeship  and 
return  home,  in  order  to  confer  with  the  Colonial  Office  on 
the  subject  of  their  grievances.  But  before  he  had  time  to 
settle  his  affairs  and  make  arrangements  for  his  approach- 
ing departure,  a  brisk  interchange  of  messages  had  taken 
place  between  the  Trinidad  government  and  the  home 
authorities.  Meetintrs  had  been  held  in  London  at  which 
the  whole  matter  had  been  thoroughly  ventilated ;  questions 
had  been  asked  and  answered  in  Parliament ;  and  the 
English  papers  had  called  unanimously  for  a  thorough  sift- 
ing of  the  relations  between  the  planters  and  tlie  labourers 
throughout  the  whole  of  the  West  India  Islands.  In  par- 
ticular, they  had  highly  praised  the  courage  and  wisdom 
with  which  young  Mr.  Hawthorn  had  stepped  into  the 
breach  at  the  critical  moment,  and  singlehanded,  averted  a 
general  massacre,  by  his  timely  influence  with  the  infuriated 
rioters.  More  than  one  paper  had  suggested  that  Mr. 
Hawthorn  should  l^e  forthwith  recalled,  to  give  evidence  on 
the  subject  before  a  Select  Committee ;  and  as  a  direct 
result  of  that  suggestion,  Edward  shortly  after  received  a 
message  from  the  Colonial  Secretary,  summoning  him  to 
liondon  immediately,  with  all  despatch,  on  business  con- 
nected with  the  recent  rising  of  the  negroes  in  Trinidad. 

Mr.  Dupuy  had  already  chosen  the  date  on  which  h« 


nr  ALL  BRIDES 


S9S 


shonld  sail ;  bnt  \7hpn  lie  lieard  that  the  man  Hawthorn 
had  actually  taken  a  passage  by  the  same  steamei-,  ho 
almost  changed  his  miud,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  and 
half  determined  to  remain  in  the  island,  now  that  it  was 
to  be  freed  at  last  from  the  polluting  presence  and  influence 
of  this  terrible  fire-eating  brown  revolutionist.  Perhaps, 
he  thought,  when  once  Hawthorn  was  gone,  Trinidad  might 
vet  be  a  place  fit  for  a  gentleman  to  live  in.  The  Dupuys 
had  inhabited  Orange  Grove,  father  and  son,  for  nine 
generations  ;  and  it  would  be  a  pity  indeed  if  they  were  to 
be  driven  away  fiom  the  ancestral  plantations  by  the 
meddlesome  interference  of  an  upstart  radical  coloured 
lawyer. 

In  this  dubitative  frame  of  mind,  then,  Mr.  Dupuy,  as 
soon  as  ever  Macfarlane  would  allow  him  to  mount  his 
horse  again,  rode  slowly  down  from  Orange  Grove  to  pay 
a  long-meditated  call  at  Government  House  upon  His 
Excellency  the  Governor.  In  black  frock  coat  and  shiny 
silk  hat,  as  is  the  rigorous  etiquette  upon  such  occasions, 
even  under  a  blazing  tropical  noontide,  he  went  his  way 
with  a  full  heart,  ready  to  pour  forth  the  vials  of  his  wrath 
into  the  sympathetic  ears  of  the  Queen's  representative 
against  this  wretched  intriguer  Hawthorn,  by  whose 
Machiavellian  machinations  (Mr.  Dupuy  was  justly  proud 
in  his  own  mind  of  that  sonorous  alliteration)  the  happy 
and  contented  peasantry  of  the  island  of  Trinidad  had  been 
spurred  and  flogged  and  slowly  roused  into  unwilling  rebel- 
hon  against  their  generous  and  paternal  employers. 

Judge  of  his  amazement,  therefore,  when,  after  listening 
patiently  to  his  long  and  fierce  tirade,  Sir  Adalbert  rose 
from  his  chair  calmly,  and  said  in  a  clear  and  distinct  voice 
these  incredible  words :  *  Mr.  Dupuy,  you  unfortunately 
quite  mistake  the  whole  nature  of  tlio  situation.  This 
abortive  insurrection  is  not  due  to  Mr.  Hawthorn  or  to  any 
other  one  person  whatever.  It  has  long  been  brewing ;  we 
have  for  mouths  feared  and  anticipated  it ;  and  it  is  the 
outcome  of  a  widespread  and  general  discontent  among  the 
negroes  themselves,  sedulously  fostered,  we  are  afraid ' — 
here  Mr.  Dupuy's  face  began  to  brighten  with  joyous  anti- 
cipation— '  by  the  unwise  and  excessive  severity  of  many 


&96 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


planters,  both  in  their  public  capacity  as  magistrates,  and 
in  their  private  capacity  as  employers  of  labour.'  (Here 
Mr.  Dupuy's  face  first  fell  blankly,  and  then  pursod  itself 
up  suddenly  in  a  perfectly  comical  expression  of  profound 
dismay  and  intense  astonishment.)  '  It  is  to  Mr.  Hawthorn 
alone/  the  Governor  went  on,  glancing  severely  at  the 
astounded  planter, '  that  many  unwise  proprietors  of  estates 
in  the  island  of  Trinidad  owe  their  escape  from  the  not 
wholly  unprovoked  anger  of  the  insurgent  negroes ;  and  so 
highly  do  the  home  authorities  value  Mr.  Hatvthom's 
courage  jind  judgment  in  this  emergency,  that  they  have 
just  summoned  him  back  to  England,  to  aid  thorn  with  his 
advice  and  experience  in  settling  a  new  modti^vivendi  to  be 
shortly  introduced  between  negroes  and  employers.' 

Mr.  Dupuy  never  quite  understood  how  he  managed  to 
reel  out  of  the  Governor's  drawing-room  without  fainting, 
from  sheer  astonishment  and  horror ;  or  how  he  managed 
to  restrain  his  legs  from  lifting  up  his  toes  automatically 
against  the  sacred  person  of  the  Quaen's  representative. 
But  he  did  manage  somehow  to  stagger  down  the  steps  in 
a  dazed  and  stupefied  fashion,  much  as  he  had  staggered 
along  the  path  when  he  felt  Delgado  hacking  him  about 
the  body  at  the  blazing  cane-houses ;  and  he  roda  back 
home  to  Orange  Grove,  red  in  the  face  as  an  angi'y  turkey- 
cock,  more  convinced  than  ever  in  his  own  mind  that 
Trinidad  was  indeed  no  longer  a  fit  place  for  any  gentleman 
of  breeding  to  live  in.  And  in  spite  of  Edward's  having 
taken  passage  by  the  same  ship,  he  detennined  to  clear  out 
of  the  island,  bag  and  baggage,  at  the  earliest  possible 
opportunity. 

As  for  Harry  Noel,  he,  too,  had  engaged  a  berth  quite 
undesignedly  in  the  self- same  steamer.  Even  though  he 
had  rushed  up  to  Orange  Grove  in  the  first  flush  of  the 
danger,  to  protect  Nora  and  her  father,  if  possible,  from 
the  frantic  rioters,  it  had  of  course  been  a  very  awkward 
position  for  him  to  find  himself  an  unwilling  and  uninvited 
guest  in  the  house  which  ho  had  last  quitted  under  such 
extremely  unpleasant  circumstances.  Mr.  Dupuy,  indeed, 
though  he  admitted,  when  he  heard  the  whole  story,  that 
Garry  had  no  doubt  behaved  *  like  a  yeiy  decent  young 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


^aite 

he 

the 

om 

ard 

ted 

uch 

eed, 

that 

•ung 


fellow,*  ooold  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  take  anj  notiee  of 

his  unbidden  presence,  even  by  sending  an  occasional  polite 
message  of  inquiry  about  his  slow  recovery,  from  the  adjoin- 
ing bedroom.  So  Harry  was  naturally  anxious  to  get  away 
from  Orange  Grove  as  quicldy  as  possible,  and  he  had  made 
up  his  mind  that  before  he  went  he  would  not  again  ask 
Nora  to  reconsider  her  determination.  His  chivalrous 
nature  shrank  from  the  very  appearance  of  trading  upon 
her  gratitude  for  his  brave  efforts  to  save  her  on  the  even« 
ing  of  the  outbreak ;  if  she  would  not  accept  him  for  his 
own  sake,  she  should  not  accept  him  for  the  sake  of  the  risk 
he  had  run  to  win  her. 

The  first  day  when  Harry  was  permitted  to  move  out 
under  the  shade  of  the  big  star-apple  tree  upon  the  little 
grass  plot,  where  he  sat  in  a  cushioned  bamboo  chair  beside 
the  clump  of  waving  cannas,  Nora  came  upon  him  suddenly, 
as  if  by  accident,  from  the  ItaUan  terrace,  with  a  bunch  of 
beautiful  pale-blue  plumbago  and  a  tall  spike  of  scented 
tuberose  in  her  dainty,  gloveless  little  fingers.  '  Aren't  they 
beautiful,  Mr.  Noel  ? '  she  said,  holding  them  up  to  his  ad- 
miring gaze — admiring  them,  it  must  be  confessed,  a  trifle 
obUquely.  'Did  you  ever  in  your  life  see  anything  so 
wildly  lovely  in  a  stiff,  tied-up,  staircase  conservatory  ovor 
yonder  in  dear  old  England  ? ' 

'  Never,'  Harry  Noel  answered,  with  his  eyes  fixed  rather 
on  her  blushing  face  than  on  the  luscious  pale  white  tube- 
rose. '  I  shall  carry  away  with  me  always  the  most 
deUghtful  reminiscences  of  beautiful  Trinidad  and  of  its 
lovely — flowers.' 

Nora  noticed  at  once  the  significant  little  pause  before 
the  last  word,  and  blushed  again,  even  deeper  than  ever. 
'  Garry  away  with  you  ? '  she  said  regretfully,  echoing  his 
words — *  carry  away  with  you  ?  Then  do  you  mean  to  leave 
the  island  immediately  ? ' 

'  Yes,  Miss  Dupuy — immediately ;  by  the  next  steamer. 
I've  written  off  this  very  morning  to  the  agents  ftt  the 
harbour  to  engage  my  passage.' 

Nora's  heart  boat  violently  within  her.  '  So  soon  t  * 
she  pa'i(\.  *  How  very  cmiousl  And  how  very  fortunate, 
too,  fee  1  believe  papa  has  taken  berths  fer  himself  wul  mt 


Of  ALL  SHADJOa 


by  the  very  same  steamer.  He's  gone  to-day  to  call  on 
the  Governor ;  and  when  he  comes  back,  he's  going  to 
decide  at  once  Tvhether  or  not  we  are  to  leave  the  island 
immediately  for  ever.' 

•  Very  fortunate  ?  You  said  very  fortunate  ?  How  very 
kind  of  you  I  Then  you're  not  altogether  sorry,  Miss 
Dupuy,  that  we're  going  to  be  fellow-passengers  together  ?  * 

•  Mr.  Noel,  Mr.  Noel !     How  can  you  doubt  it  ?  ' 
Harry's  heart  beat  that  moment  almost  as  fast  as  Nora's 

own.  In  spite  of  his  good  resolutions — which  he  had  made 
80  very  firmly  too — he  couldn't  help  ejaculating  fervently : 
•  Then  you  forgive  me,  Miss  Dupuy  !  You  let  bygones  be 
bygones !    You're  not  angry  with  me  any  longer  I ' 

•  Angry  with  you,  Mr.  Noel — angry  with  you  I  You 
were  so  kind,  you  were  so  brave  I  Huw  could  I  ever  again 
be  angry  with  you  I ' 

Harry's  face  fell  somewhat.  After  all,  then,  it  was  only 
gratitude.  '  It's  very  good  of  you  to  say  so,'  he  faltered 
out  tremulously — *  very  good  of  you  to  say  so.  I — I — I 
shall  always  remember — my — my  visit  to  Orange  Grove 
with  the  greatest  pleasure.' 

•  And  so  shall  1,'  Nora  added  in  a  low  voice,  hardly 
breathing ;  and  as  she  spoke,  the  tears  filled  her  eyes  to 
overiiowing. 

Harry  looked  at  her  once  more  tenderly.  How  beautiful 
and  fresh  and  dainty  she  was,  really !  He  looked  at  her, 
and  longed  just  once  to  kiss  her.  Nora's  hand  lay  close  to 
his.  He  put  out  his  own  fingers,  very  tentatively,  and  iust 
touched  it,  almost  as  if  by  accident.  Nora  drew  it  half 
away,  but  not  suddenly.  He  touched  it  again,  a  little 
more  boldly  this  time,  and  Nora  permitted  him,  unreprov- 
ing.  Then  he  looked  hard  into  her  averted  tearful  eyes, 
and  said  tenderly  the  one  word,  •  Nora  I ' 

Nora's  hand  responded  faintly  by  a  slight  pressure,  but 
she  answered  nothing. 

•  Nora,'  the  young  man  cried  again,  with  sudden  energy, 
•if  it  is  love,  take  me,  take  me.  But  if  it  is  only— only  the 
recollection  of  that  terrible  night,  let  me  go,  let  me  go,  for 
•ver  t ' 

Nora  hold  hii  hand  fast  in  hers  with  a  iremulous  grasp, 


nr  ALL  8EADE8 


and  whispered  in  his  ear,  almost  inaudiblj  :  '  Mr.  Noel,  it  i« 
love — it  is  love  I    I  love  you~I  love  you  I  * 

When  Macfarlane  came  his  roimds  that  evening  to  see 
his  patients  he  declared  that  Harry  Noel's  pulse  was 
decidedly  feverish,  and  that  he  must  have  been  somehow 
over- exciting  liirnself ;  so  he  ordered  him  back  again  ruth- 
lessly to  bed  at  once  till  further  notice. 


Lttle 


pyes, 

but 

trgy. 

the 
,  for 


[aspi 


OHAPTEB  XL\, 

When  Mr.  Dupuy  heard  from  his  daughter's  own  lips  the 
news  of  her  engagement  to  Harry  Noel,  his  wrath  at  first 
was  absolutely  unbounded ;  he  stormed  about  the  house,  and 
raved  and  gesticulated.  He  refused  ever  to  see  Harry  Noel 
again,  or  to  admit  of  any  protloied  explanation,  or  to  sulTer 
Nora  to  attempt  the  defence  of  her  own  conduct.  He  was 
sure  no  defence  was  possible,  and  he  wasn't  going  to  hsten 
to  one  either,  whether  or  not.  He  even  proposed  to  kick 
Harrv  out  of  doors  forthwith  for  having  thus  taken  advan- 
tage m  the  most  abominable  maimer  vf  his  very  peculiar 
and  unusual  circumstances.  Whatever  came,  he  would 
never  dream  of  allowing  Nora  to  marry  such  an  extremely 
ungentlemanly  and  mean-spii-itcd  fellow. 

But  Mr.  Dupuy  didn't  sullicitMitly  calculate  upon  the 
fact  that  in  this  matter  he  had  another  Dupuy  to  deal  with, 
and  that  that  other  Dupuy  had  the  hidnmitable  family  will 
quite  as  strongly  developed  within  her  as  he  himself  had. 
Nora  stuck  bravely  to  hor  point  with  the  utmost  resolution. 
As  long  as  she  was  not  yet  of  age,  she  said,  she  would  obey 
her  father  in  all  reasonable  matters ;  but  as  soon  as  she 
was  twenty-one,  Orange  Grove  or  no  Orange  Grove,  she 
would  marry  Harry  Koel  outright,  so  that  was  the  end  of 
it.  And  having  delivered  herself  squarely  of  this  profound 
determhiation,  she  said  not  a  word  more  upon  the  subject, 
but  left  events  to  work  out  then*  own  course  in  their  own 
proper  and  natural  fashion. 

Now,  Mr.  Dupuy  was  an  obstinate  mjoi ;    but  hit 


800 


MH  ALL  SHADJBB 


obstinaej  was  of  that  Tehement  and  demonstratiTB  kind 
which  grows  fiercer  and  fiercer  the  more  you  say  to  it,  but 
wears  itself  out,  of  pure  inanition,  when  resolutely  met  by 
a  firm  and  passive  silent  opposition.  Though  she  was  no 
psychologist,  Nora  had  hit  quite  unconsciously  and  spon- 
taneously upon  this  best  possible  line  of  action.  She  never 
attempted  to  contradict  or  gainsay  her  father,  whenever  he 
spoke  to  her  angrily,  in  one  of  his  passionate  outbursts 
against  Harr^  Noel ;  but  she  went  her  own  way,  quietly 
and  unobtrusively,  taking  it  for  granted  always,  in  a  thou- 
sand  little  undemonstrative  ways,  that  it  was  her  obvious 
future  rdle  in  hfe  to  marry  at  last  her  chosen  lover.  And 
as  water  by  continual  droppmg  wears  a  hole  finally  in  the 
hardest  stone,  so  Nora  by  constant  quiet  side-hints  made 
her  fieLther  gradually  understand  that  she  would  really  have 
Harry  Noel  for  a  husband,  and  no  other.  Bit  by  bit,  Mr. 
Dupuy  gave  way,  sullenly  and  grudgingly,  convinced  in 
his  own  mind  that  the  world  was  being  rapidly  turned 
topsy-turvy,  and  that  it  was  no  use  for  a  plain,  solid, 
straightforward  old  gentleman  any  longer  to  presume 
single-handed  upon  stemming  the  ever-increasing  flood  of 
revolutionarv  levelling  sentiment.  It  was  some  solace  to 
his  soul,  as  he  yielded  slowly  inch  by  inch,  to  think  that  if 
for  once  in  his  life  he  had  had  to  yield,  it  was  at  least  bo  a 
bom  Dapuy,  and  not  to  any  pulpy,  weak-minded  outsider 
whatever. 

So  in  the  end,  before  the  steamer  was  ready  to  sail,  he 
had  been  brought,  not  indeed  to  give  his  consent  to  Nora's 
marriage— for  that  was  more  than  any  one  could  reason- 
ably have  expected  from  a  man  of  his  character — ^but  to 
recognise  it  somehow  in  an  unofiGcial  dogged  fashion  as 
quite  inevitable.  After  all,  the  fellow  was  heir  to  a 
baronetcy,  which  is  always  an  emmently  respectable  posi- 
tion ;  and  his  daughter  in  the  end  would  be  Lady  Noel ; 
and  everybody  said  the  young  man  had  behaved  admirably 
on  the  mght  of  the  riot ;  and  over  in  England — well,  over 
in  England  it's  positively  incredible  how  little  right  and 
proper  feeling  people  liave  got  upon  these  important  racial 
matters. 

*  Sol  one  thing  I  will  rao^  permit/  Mr.  Duj^uy  said  witk 


n  kind 
» it,  but 
met  by 
was  no 
cl  spon- 
le  never 
lever  he 
itbursts 
,  quietly 
a  thou- 
obvious 
r.    And 
y  in  the 
ts  made 
illy  have 
bit,  Mr. 
inced  in 
j^  turned 
n,  solid, 
presume 
flood  of 
solace  to 
ik  that  if 
.east  to  a 
.  outsider 

0  sail,  he 
to  Nora's 

1  reason- 
r — ^but  to 
Qishion  as 
leir  to  a 
able  posi- 
idy  Noel; 
idmirably 
well,  over 
right  and 
;ant  racial 


saidwitk 


or  ALL  BMADEB 


decisive  onrtness.  *  Whether  yoa  marry  this  person  Noel, 
Nora,  or  whether  yon  don't — a  question  on  which  it  seems, 
in  this  new-£Eingled  order  of  things  that's  coming  up  now- 
adays, a  father's  feehngs  are  not  to  be  consulted — ^you  shall 
not  marry  him  here  in  Trinidad.  I  will  net  allow  the 
grand  old  name  and  fame  of  the  fighting  Dupuys  of  Orange 
Grove  to  be  dragged  through  the  mud  with  any  young  man 
whatsoever,  in  tiiis  island.  If  you  want  to  marry  the  man 
Noel,  miss,  you  shall  marry  him  in  England,  where  nobody 
on  earth  will  know  an3i)hing  at  all  about  it.' 

*  Certainly,  papa,'  Nora  answered  most  demurely.  *  Mr. 
Noel  would  naturally  prefer  the  wedding  to  take  place  in 
London,  where  his  own  family  and  friends  could  all  be 
present ;  and  besides,  of  course  there  wouldn't  be  time  to 
get  one's  things  ready  either,  before  we  leave  the  West 
Lidies.' 

When  the  next  steamer  was  prepared  to  sail,  it  earned 
away  a  large  contingent  of  well-known  residents  from  the 
island  of  Trinidad.  On  the  deck,  Edward  and  Marian 
Hawthorn  stood  waving  their  handkerchiefs  energetically 
to  their  friends  on  the  wharf,  and  to  the  great  body  of 
negroes  who  had  assembled  in  full  force  to  give  a  parting 
cheer  to  *  de  black  man  fren',  Mr.  Hawtom.'  Harry  Noel, 
in  a  folding  cane-chair,  sat  beside  them,  still  pale  and  ill, 
but  bowing,  it  must  be  confessed,  from  time  to  time,  a 
rather  ironical  bow  to  his  late  assailants,  at  the  chsers, 
which  were  really  meant,  of  course,  for  his  more  popular 
friend  and  travelling  companion.  Close  by  stood  Nora,  not 
sorry  in  her  heart  tL  \i  she  was  to  see  the  last  that  day  of 
the  land  of  her  fathers,  where  she  had  suffered  so  terribly 
and  dared  so  much.  And  close  by,  too,  on  the  seat  beside 
the  gunwale,  sat  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hawthorn  the  elder,  induced 
at  last,  by  Edward's  earnest  soUcitation,  to  quit  Trinidad 
for  the  evening  of  their  days,  and  come  to  live  hard  by  his 
own  new  home  in  the  mother  country.  As  for  Mr.  Dupuy, 
he  had  no  patience  with  the  open  way  in  which  that  man 
Hawthorn  was  waving  his  adieux  so  abominably  to  his 
fellow-conspirators ;  so,  by  way  of  escaping  from  the  un- 
welcome demonstration,  he  was  quietly  ensconced  below  in 

20 


il 


MS 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


ft  comer  of  the  saloon,  enjoying  a  last  parting  cigar  and  m 
brandy  cocktail  with  some  of  his  old  planter  cronies,  who 
were  going  back  to  sliore  by-and-by  in  the  pilot  boat.  As 
a  body,  the  little  party  downstairs  were  all  agreed  that 
when  a  man  like  our  friend  Dupuy  here  was  positively 
driven  out  of  the  island  by  coloured  agitators,  Trinidad  was 
no  longer  a  place  fit  for  any  gentleman  with  the  slightest 
self-respect  to  live  in.  The  effect  of  this  solemn  declara- 
tion was  only  imperceptibly  marred  by  the  well-known  fact 
that  it  had  been  announced  with  equal  profundity  of  con- 
viction, at  intervals  of  about  six  months  each,  by  ten 
generations  of  old  Trinidad  planters,  ever  since  the  earUest 
foundation  of  the  Spanish  colony  in  that  island. 

Just  two  months  later,  Mr.  Dupuy  was  seated  alone  at 
his  soUtary  lunch  in  the  London  club  to  which  Harry  Noel 
had  temporarily  introduced  him  as  an  honorary  guest.  It 
was  the  morning  after  Nora's  wedding,  and  Mr.  Dupuy  was 
feeling  naturally  somewhat  dull  and  lonely  in  that  great 
unsympathetic  world  of  London.  His  attention,  however, 
was  suddenly  attracted  by  two  young  men  at  a  neighbour- 
ing table,  one  of  whom  distinctly  mentioned  in  an  audible 
tone  his  new  son-in-law's  name,  '  Harry  Noel.'  The  master 
of  Orange  Grove  drew  himself  up  stiffly  and  listened  with 
much  curiosity  to  such  scraps  as  he  could  manage  to  catch 
of  their  flippant  conversation. 

*  Oh,  yes,'  one  of  them  was  saying,  •  a  very  smart  affair 
indeed,  I  can  tell  you.  Old  Sir  Walter  and  Lady  Noel  down 
there  from  Lincobishire,  and  half  the  smartest  people  in 
London  at  the  wedding  breakfast.  Very  fine  fellow,  Noel, 
and  comes  in  to  one  of  the  finest  estates  in  the  whole  of 
England.  Pretty  little  woman,  too,  th«  bride — iiio«  littla 
girl,  with  such  winning  little  baby  features.' 

*  Ah,  ha  ! '  drawled  out  the  other  slowly.  '  Pretty,  ii 
she?    Ah,  really.    And,  pray,  who  was  she ? * 

Mr.  Dupuy's  bosom  swelled  with  not  unnatural  paternal 
pride  and  pleasure  as  he  anticipated  the  prompt  answer 
from  the  wedding  guest :  *  One  of  the  fighting  Dupuys  of 
Trinidad.' 

But  instead  of  replying  in  that  perfeot!?  reaeouable  and 


i  I 


Df  ALL  SHADES 


•08 


by,  !• 


intelligible  fiashion,  the  young:  man  at  the  olab  responded 
slowly  :  *  Well,  apon  my  word,  I  don't  exactly  know  who 
she  was,  bnt  somebody  coloniij,  any  way,  I'm  certain.  I 
fancy  from  Hong-Kong,  or  Penang,  or  Demerara,  or  some- 
where.— No ;  Trinidad — I  remember  now— it  was  certainly 
either  St.  Eitts  or  Trinidad.  Oh,  Trinidad,  of  course,  for 
Mrs.  Hawthorn,  you  Imow — Miss  Ord  that  was — wife  of 
that  awfully  clever  Cambridge  fellow  Hawthorn,  who's  just 
been  appointed  to  a  permanent  something- or-other-ship  at 
the  Colonial  Oflfice — Mrs.  Hawthorn  knew  her  when  she 
was  out  there  during  that  nigger  row  they've  just  been 
having ;  and  she  pointed  me  out  the  bride's  father,  a 
snuffy-looking  old  gentleman  in  the  sugar-planting  hne, 
over  in  those  parts,  as  far  as  I  understood  her.  Old  gentle- 
man looked  horribly  out  of  it  among  so  many  smart  London 
people.  Horizon  apparently  quite  limited  by  rum  and 
sugar. — Oh,  yes,  it  was  a  great  catch  for  her,  of  course,  I 
needn't  tell  you;  but  I  understand  this  was  the  whole 
story  of  it.  She  angled  for  him  very  cleverly ;  and,  by 
Jove,  she  hooked  him  at  last,  and  played  him  well,  and  now 
she's  landed  him  and  fairly  cooked  him.  It  appears,  he 
went  out  there  not  long  before  this  insurrection  business 
began,  to  look  after  some  property  they  have  in  the  island, 
and  he  stopped  with  her  father,  who,  I  dare  say,  was 
accustomed  to  dispensing  a  sort  of  rough-and-ready  colonial 
hospitality  to  all  comers,  gentle  and  simple.  When  the 
row  came,  the  suuffy  old  gentleman  in  the  sugar-planting 
line,  as  luck  would  have  it,  was  the  very  first  man  whose 
house  was  attacked — didn't  pay  his  niggers  regularly,  they 
tell  me ;  and  this  young  lady,  posing  herself  directly  behind 
poor  Noel,  compelled  him,  out  of  pure  politeness,  being  a 
chivalrous  sort  of  man,  to  fight  for  her  life,  and  beat  off 
the  niggers  single-handed  for  half  an  hour  or  so.  Then  he 
gets  cut  down,  it  seems,  with  an  ugly  cutlass  wound :  she 
falls  fainting  upon  his  body,  for  all  the  world  hke  a  Surrey 
melodrama;  Hawthorn  rushes  in  with  drawn  pistol  and 
strikes  an  attitude ;  and  the  curtain  falls :  tableau.  At 
last.  Hawthorn  manages  to  disperse  the  niggers ;  and  my 
Young  lady  has  the  agreeable  task  of  nursing  Noel  at  her 
uther'B  house,  through  a  slow  convalescence.     Deuced 


iH 


IN  ALL  SHADES 


clever,  of  conrse :  makes  him  save  her  life  first,  and  then 
she  helps  to  save  his.  Has  him  both  wajs,  you  see— devo- 
tion and  gratitude.  So,  as  I  say,  she  lands  him  promptly : 
and  the  consequence  is,  after  a  proper  interval,  this  smart 
affair  that  came  off  yesterday  over  at  St.  George's. 

Once  more  the  world  reeled  visibly  before  Mr.  Dupuy'B 
eyes,  and  he  rose  up  from  that  hospitable  club  table,  leaving 
his  mutton  outlet  and  tomato  sauce  almost  untasted.  In 
the  heat  of  the  moment,  he  was  half  inclined  to  go  back 
again  immediately  to  his  native  Trinidad,  and  brave  the 
terrors  of  vivisection,  rather  than  stop  in  this  atrocious, 
new-fangled,  upsetting  England,  where  the  family  honours 
of  the  fighting  Dupuys  ot  Orange  Grove  were  positively 
reckoned  at  less  than  nothing.  He  restrained  himself, 
however,  with  a  violent  effort,  and  still  condescends,  from 
Bummer  to  summer,  fitfully  to  inhabit  this  chilly,  damp, 
and  unappreciative  island.  But  it  is  noticeable  that  he 
talks  much  less  frequently  now  of  the  Dupuy  characteristics 
than  he  did  formerly  (the  population  of  Great  Britain  being 
evidently  rather  bored  than  otherwise  by  his  constant  allu- 
sions to  those  remarkable  idiosyncrasies) ;  and  some  of  his 
acquaintances  have  even  observed  that  since  the  late 
baronet's  lamented  decease,  a  few  months  since,  he  has 
spoken  more  than  once  with  apparent  pride  and  dehght  of 
*my  son-in-law.  Sir  Harry  Noel.' 

It  is  a  great  consolation  to  Tom  Dupuy  to  this  day, 
whenever  anybody  happens  casually  to  mention  his  cousin 
Nora  in  his  presence,  that  he  can  rub  his  hands  gently  one 
over  the  other  before  him,  and  murmur  in  his  own  pecuUar 
drawl :  '  I  always  told  you  she'd  end  at  last  by  marrying 
Bome  confounded  woolly-headed  brown  man.' 


TEE  BND. 


and  then 

ee—devo- 
)romptly : 
his  smart 

3. 

Dupuy*B 
e,  leaving 
sted.    In 

go  back 
)rave  the 
itrocious, 
'  honours 
positively 

himself, 
ids,  from 
y,  damp, 

that  he 
cteristics 
i-in  being 
ant  allu- 
ne  of  his 
the  late 
,  he  has 
ehght  of 

his  day, 
B  cousin 
ntly  one 
pecuhar 
larrying 


